


Lost Boy

by assortedfruitsnacks212



Series: The Redemption of Billy Hargrove [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angry Billy Hargrove, Billy Hargrove & Eleven | Jane Hopper Friendship, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Billy Hargrove Deserves Better, Billy Hargrove Has PTSD, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Billy Hargrove Lives, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Billy Hargrove Tries to Be a Better Person, Billy Hargrove Tries to Be a Better Sibling, Billy Hargrove is Bad at Communicating, Billy Hargrove is a Mess, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Byers Family Stay in Hawkins, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hopper and El and Billy try to figure each other out, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jim "Chief" Hopper Being Jim "Chief" Hopper, Jim "Chief" Hopper Lives, Neil Hargrove Being an Asshole, Parental Jim "Chief" Hopper, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Season/Series 03, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Billy Hargrove, lots of angst and fluff, my goal is to make you cry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2020-07-29 05:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20077234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assortedfruitsnacks212/pseuds/assortedfruitsnacks212
Summary: Post S3. Billy's life has completely fallen apart after the events of July '85. He's started drinking, lost his job, and gotten kicked out of the Hargrove/Mayfield house. Luckily for him, word gets around in Hawkins, and Chief Jim Hopper has a more generous heart than advertised.A story in which Billy faces his demons with the help of a police chief -- and the fourteen-year-old girl he fears most in the world.





	1. Hopper Makes An Offer

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wish Billy had lived, okay?
> 
> Two other key differences from the show:
> 
> \- Hopper survived the Battle of Starcourt, and he and Joyce are dating.  
\- The Byers and Eleven are still in Hawkins.
> 
> This fic is largely unbeta'd, though I've worked hard to make it as readable as possible.

“Rise and shine, Mr. Hargrove!”

_Bang, bang, bang!_

Billy jerked awake in the driver’s seat, hitting his browbone on the door. “Ow, fuck!” Holding a hand to his head - which was already aching from the night before - he squinted out the car window into the morning sun. There, framed perfectly by the too-bright light, stood the tall, imposing silhouette of a man in a sheriff’s hat.

Chief Hopper, looking none too pleased.

Billy scoffed. “Fuckin’ pig. Fuck off.” He turned over to go back to sleep.

“You know the rules, Mr. Hargrove, no sleeping off a hangover in a public park."

_Bang, bang, bang! _ went Hopper’s flashlight, hitting the roof of the car. Billy's eyes flew open, and he shot upright, twisting to yell out the window, “Hey! If you dent my car--”

“Yeah, yeah, you'll sue me. Now get out of here before I bring you in for public intoxication.”

“What, is that supposed to scare me?” Billy laughed out loud. Closing his eyes, he settled comfortably in his seat. “You don't scare me.”

A beat passed. The chief muttered something under his breath. Billy smirked, about to say, _ What was that, chief? Couldn't hear you, _but he never got the chance. The door flew open, and a pair of hands seized his shirt. 

“Wha-- hey, get the hell off me!” he shouted, only to be dragged out of his seat and brought face-to-face with the chief. For the first time, Billy saw his face clearly, and what he saw sent a jolt of fear through him. 

The man had a hard look in his eyes. Not the kind Billy’s dad got - a hot, murderous look that could explode at any second - but hard enough all the same. He breathed loudly through his nose, glaring at Billy with an unnerving steadiness.

“You wanna test me?” he said. “Go ahead. See how far it gets you.”

Fear gave way to contempt. Billy spat in his face. 

The chief blinked in shock. He was actually surprised by Billy's defiance, a fact Billy found darkly satisfying. 

Then his expression hardened. Grabbing Billy’s collar, he slammed him into the side of the car. The impact knocked Billy's teeth together in an all-too-familiar _ clack_, and he laughed - a wild cackle that came from the back of his throat.

He couldn't stop laughing after that. He laughed as Hopper slapped a pair of handcuffs on him, and he laughed all the way to Hopper’s truck. When Hopper shoved him into the passenger seat and shut the door, Billy whooped so loud the cabin rang with it. 

Oh, he hadn't been in a cop car in a _ long _time. 

This was going to be an interesting day - a real peachy, write-home-to-mama kind of day.

\--

Billy kept his eyes closed, his head on the headrest, and a smirk on his face the entire ride. Sure, let the almighty Chief Hopper think this was a punishment. Let him think Billy was scared of a little jail cell. The joke was on him, because at least Billy would have a place to sleep.

The events of the past few weeks unrolled behind Billy's eyes like a slow-mo video reel. 

The horrors of Starcourt. Endless bottles of booze. The angry face of his boss at the community pool as he said, “You're fired.” The even angrier face of his dad calling him a “no-good son of a whore.” Max screaming as Billy rammed his dad’s head into the wall. Slamming doors. All his worldly possessions (the ones he cared about, anyway) sitting in the passenger seat of his car. Sleeping under the stars. Susan's face when she opened the door mid-morning, letting him in for breakfast and a shower. Max shoving dollar bills into his hands, saying, “Here. You need it more than me.” Max hugging him, her red hair tucked beneath his chin.

Moisture gathered under Billy's eyelids. He bit his lip savagely until it dried.

Just then, the truck crunched onto gravel and stopped with a screech. Opening his eyes, Billy looked around to find they'd pulled into a private drive in the middle of the woods. Suddenly he felt stone-cold sober.

“What the hell is this?” He glanced at Hopper. “Where did you take me?”

Hopper turned off the engine. Hand still on the wheel, he stared out the windshield.

“I know what's going on, Billy,” he said. “I know about your dad, the booze - everything. Max told El.”

Billy rolled his eyes skyward, and his head fell back against the headrest. _ Of fuckin’ course. _

“I'm fine,” he muttered. 

“Like hell you are. A kid your age shouldn't be out on the street.”

“I'm not a fuckin’ kid.”

“You are if I say you are,” the chief retorted, voice raised. “Now shut up and listen. I'm feeling mighty generous after what you did for my daughter. And believe me when I say she is the _ only _ reason I'm here. Because let me make one thing clear.” 

He leaned toward Billy, making the leather seat creak. Billy looked at him with wide eyes.

“I...don't...like you,” Hopper enunciated. He started counting on his fingers. “I don't like your shitty haircut.” One finger. “I don't like your shitty attitude.” Two fingers. “I don't like your shitty face.” Three fingers. “But you saved my daughter's life, and I can never repay you for that.

“So here's my proposition.” He straightened up. “You come work for me, help me patch up my cabin. I give you some money and a couch to sleep on. We continue this arrangement until you're back on your feet. On one condition.” 

The chief lifted a finger in the air.

“You lay off the booze.”

Billy blinked. Thoughts and emotions roiled inside him. The chief was..._ giving him a job_? As long as he could stay _ sober_?

Fuck. That would be a tough gig. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone a day without a beer. Lately it'd been a whole six-pack every morning and night, with who knew how many in between. To go from that to nothing would be…

Fuck.

Billy licked his lower lip. "And if I say no?"

“Then I haul your ass to jail for assaulting a police officer, and you continue your downward spiral into a life of crime.” Hopper smiled. "But hey, if you want it that bad, don't let me stop you.”

Silence fell over the cab. Billy chewed the inside of his mouth and flexed his wrists within the cuffs. God, these things were uncomfortable. An image flashed through his mind: him wearing an orange prison suit, and cuffs on his wrists all day, every day. Though he knew that wouldn't happen - even death row inmates didn't wear cuffs _all_ the time - it made his stomach lurch.

He sighed heavily. _Fuck this fuckin' shit._

“When do I start?” he grumbled.

“Good choice!” Hopper boomed, clapping Billy on the back. “You'll start today.”

As Hopper turned the key in the ignition, bringing the truck to life with a rumbling _ vroom_, Billy sank into his seat. Somehow this felt like his lowest point. Not sleeping off a hangover in his car - this. Throwing himself on the good graces of Chief Jim Hopper...and sleeping on his fucking couch.

“Shit,” he muttered. As they peeled out of the drive, he looked out the window, watching the trees go by with hooded eyes.

This was shaping up to be another long, _long_ year in Hawkins.


	2. The Cabin Where My Mind Was Flayed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy starts work at Hopper's cabin. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

Billy was half-asleep by the time they arrived. Hands still cuffed, his head lolled against the window as he drifted in half-formed dreams of sunshine and sheriff’s hats. When the truck stopped, the bounce of the suspension made his temple smack the glass_. _

“God fucking _ damn _it!” he hissed. He tried to raise his hand to the spot, but encountered the hard metal of the cuffs instead. So he settled for scowling like he wanted to murder somebody. Which, by this point, he very much did.

The engine cut off. Keys jangled as they were removed from the ignition.

“We’re here,” Hop announced.

Blinking away an ache-induced haze, Billy looked out the windshield. Naturally, they were in the woods again. Just a short distance in front of them, a cabin crouched low to the ground, as if trying to hide.

Billy had never been here in his life. And yet, he recognized it.

_Stalking slowly through the doorway._

_ Pinning her to the wall with his stare. _

_ Threats dripping from his lips. _

_ Tears streaming down her cheeks as she gasped, “No. No!” _

“Hargrove!”

Hopper’s bark shattered the growing darkness around him. He jerked to attention, eyes on the chief.

“You with me?” the man said.

It took a second, but Billy nodded. Satisfied, Hopper jangled the keys in his hand. “Alright. Let’s do this.” 

As the chief opened the squeaky driver’s door and stepped out, Billy turned his gaze back to the cabin. Its windows seemed to glare at him, hating him. Accusing him. His jaw clenched. _ Hey, I don’t fucking want me here either, so let’s just buckle down and get through this, alright? _

Then the door opened, the chief pulled Billy from the truck, and together they walked toward the cabin.

Now that he was out in the open, Billy could see more of the damage. Tarps covered multiple spots on the siding like bright blue bandaids. Off to the left, a pile of debris sat rotting in the yard. On the roof, the largest tarp of all flapped gently in the breeze.

Hopper stopped, grabbing Billy’s elbow to hold him back. He pushed up his hat and gestured to the scene. “I, uh, haven’t been able to do much with it yet. The past few weeks have been… tough.”

Billy’s lips twitched. He knew exactly what the chief meant. There was no shortage of trauma in these parts - especially, Billy guessed, for the girl in Hopper’s care. Shoving away the image of her tear-stained face, he stared apathetically at the cabin, saying nothing.

Hopper took the hint. Clearing his throat, he led Billy to the front door and unlocked it with another key.

Billy was the first to step inside. Moving slowly, he took in the space with sharp eyes. The place was fully furnished, as if its inhabitants could walk right in at any moment. No one had lived here for weeks, though - that much was obvious. The air was stale, the lights were off, and the furniture was covered in clear plastic. It felt strange. Depressing.

The damage was even more obvious from here. A huge chunk of the roof was missing, and the tarp covering the hole cast a weird blue tint over the space. The sound of it flapping in the breeze reminded him of sailcloth, which conjured up images of shipwrecks and desert islands.

Then he saw it: the girl’s room, empty and forlorn. His stomach turned. _ Fuck. _

“The whole roof needs to be reshingled anyway,” Hopper said from somewhere behind him. “Figured I’d take the time to do a quality job.”

Billy swallowed hard. “What--what do you need me to do?”

“Well, today you’ll be cleaning up debris outside. I’ll have to uncuff you, but don’t even think about running. I’ll catch you, and then our deal is off. Understand?”

When Billy didn’t respond, Hopper stepped up behind him. “Hey!” Billy whirled around. “I said do you understand?”

There it was, that steely look again. Billy’s mouth went dry, and he nodded.

“Good.” Producing a small key, Hopper unlocked and removed the cuffs. As soon as they were off, Billy shook out his hands, breathing a sigh of relief at the restored blood flow. 

“You’ll need gloves,” Hopper said. He turned and disappeared outside, presumably to get gloves from a shed. 

Billy started to follow him, but stopped. A tugging, a compulsion he didn't understand, made him glance up at the hole in the roof. Goosebumps cascaded down the back of his neck as he stared at the luminous blue of the tarp, watched it undulate slowly in a breeze that didn't seem to be there.

_Tentacles ripping the roof open._

_ The girl screaming, holding onto her friends for dear life-- _

He jerked himself out of the memory with a gasp. Stumbling back, he looked wildly at the cabin around him, then hurried out the door into the sunlight.

Behind him, the shadows chittered and clicked like a monster.

\--

Cleaning up debris wasn’t bad. The biggest pieces had already been gathered, and the rest didn’t take that long. After that, though, Hopper decided it would be great fun if he made Billy clear out brush - the long, thorny kind you can pull up with your (gloved) hands. Billy cussed him out for it, but he just smiled and rattled the cuffs hanging from his belt. _ I could always take you to jail, kid. _

Billy shut up after that. Still, he hated every minute of it. The branches fucking whipped him if he wasn’t careful, he could feel his hair getting frizzy, and he’d never meant for this goddamn shirt to get so goddamn sweaty. Also he was pretty sure the thorns were stabbing holes in it, and..._ fuck. _

About an hour in, Hopper disappeared inside. Couple minutes later, he appeared at a side window, phone to his ear, watching Billy work as he talked. 

Billy scowled. He thought about giving him the one-finger salute, but decided he didn't have the energy and kept pulling up brush instead.

Eventually Hopper wandered away from the window. He was gone for way too long after that. As Billy took another armful of branches to the pile, he glared at the cabin.

What the fuck was the chief doing? Shooting the shit while Billy worked? 

Anger swelled inside Billy like red hot magma. He threw the branches on the pile harder than necessary, then leaned back to crack his spine. Casting another dirty look at the cabin, he shook his head. _ Fuck you, pig. _He took off his gloves, threw them on the ground, and dug in his pocket for his cigarettes.

But of course, _ of course, _he'd only managed to get a couple good breaths in when the chief's voice boomed from the porch.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

Billy turned as lazily as possible to look at him. “Taking a break. What does it look like?”

Hopper stared at him. Billy could see the wheels spinning angrily in his head as he considered his options. Amazingly, he decided to let it go. Breathing in the fresh air, he leaned against the wall, reaching in his shirt pocket for a cigarette.

“Alright. We’ll smoke. I’ll talk.”

Billy rolled his eyes and turned back to his cig. He listened as Hopper lit one up and took a long, thoughtful draw of his own.

“I got you a job with a friend of mine.”

“You _ what_?” Billy whirled around, eyes wide.

“Mm-hm.” The chief blew a cloud of smoke. “Local farmer. Needs some help this season.”

“You…” Billy could hardly breathe. “You..._ fucking asshole! _ That wasn’t part of the deal!”

Hopper glanced down at the cig in his hand. “Not in so many words, no.” Pushing off the wall, he left the porch and sauntered toward Billy. “But keeping you off the sauce was. And you and I both know that if you aren’t working your ass off till sundown every day…”

He stopped just a pace away from Billy. Glared at him.

“...you won’t stand a chance.”

Billy said nothing. Sticking the cig back in his mouth, Hopper grinned. Fucking grinned_._

“What, did you think I’d drop my duties and stay here with you every day?” He shook his head. “No. This’ll be your weekend job.”

Billy could practically feel his blood boiling. He should've seen this coming. They always do this - ask for a little, then take fucking everything. 

“Fuckin’..._ prick_,” he spat. 

Hopper chuckled, but it wasn't a nice sound. There was a sharp, rusty edge to it, like an old switchblade scraping against wood. 

“Feeling's mutual, pal.” 

All hints of a grin vanished. He leaned forward.

“Now get back to work.”

Meeting the chief's stare head on, Billy squared his shoulders and stepped back. He flicked his lit cigarette onto the grass - let it start a fire, for all he cared - and grabbed his gloves off the ground.

As he headed into the brush, he could feel the chief's eyes boring into him.

Watching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> El will make her first appearance in the next chapter! :)


	3. He's Your Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy sees El for the first time in weeks. Hopper, El, and Billy go to a friend's house for dinner.

The rest of the day sucked ass. Even with all his branch-pulling and thorn-wrangling, by 3PM, Billy still hadn't finished. And that was with barely any breaks - just a fifteen-minute lunch break (a sandwich from 7/11, delicious), and maybe two smoke breaks.

Woods. He fucking hated them.

Even worse, for most of the day, Hopper was either on the phone or chatting to his subordinates via walkie talkie. The rest of the time, he was sitting on the porch smoking and occasionally barking out directives. It was like prison labor without the prison. By the end of it, Billy was struggling to remember what was so great about this deal anyway.

Fortunately, the chief decided to show a little mercy. Billy had just thrown more branches on the pile, his biggest armful yet, it felt like. Right as the anger was bubbling up, making him fantasize about screaming at the trees, the chief came across the yard toward him. “Alright,” he said, “that’s enough for one day. Let’s get you out of here, get you cleaned up.”

Billy immediately peeled his gloves off. “God damn finally,” he muttered under his breath. 

The chief didn’t hear, or pretended not to. As they walked toward the truck, Billy glanced back at the cabin and, when the chief wasn’t looking, flipped it the bird. 

It glared at him as hard as ever.

\--

Somehow, the full meaning of “give you a couch to sleep on” didn’t occur to Billy until they pulled into the driveway of the chief’s trailer.

Hopper threw the truck in park and unbuckled his seatbelt. Billy sat frozen, staring at the unassuming single-wide before him. His heart beat faster; a prickling sensation swept up his back and down his arms.

_ She _ was here. The girl.

He’d be fucking _ living _with her.

He cleared his throat. _ Shit! Fuck! _“You sure about this, chief?”

Hopper paused as he was getting out. “Not when you ask like that.”

Billy swallowed, trying not to look as nauseated as he felt. When he didn’t respond, Hopper shrugged, got out of the truck, and headed for the front porch. Billy followed, his thoughts a litany of curses. _ Shit, fuck, shit, fuck. _

Hopper let them inside without preamble. Taking off his hat, he called, “Hey honey, I’m home.” He glanced sharply at Billy. “And...I brought company.”

Billy frowned in confusion. Wait - was the chief married too? Then he realized, and his heart slammed into his chest. It did it again when a door opened down the hall, and a wiry girl stepped out.

El. She was dressed in a flannel and jeans, and she looked paler than he remembered. Her hair definitely hadn’t been brushed today, and dark rings under her eyes told of bad dreams and sleepless nights.

Billy stared at her; she stared back. Surprisingly, she gave him a ghost of a smile. “Billy,” she whispered hoarsely, as if she hadn’t spoken much.

He didn’t know what to do with that. Blinking, he turned and walked into the living room.

“This the couch?” he asked, gesturing to the hideous floral affair near the wall.

“Sure is.” Still holding his hat, the chief addressed El. “Sweetie, why don’t you go back in your room for a minute? I need to have a talk with our, uh… visitor.”

She obeyed, giving Billy one last smile. As soon as her door closed, the chief turned to him. His face was stony, and his eyes bored holes through Billy’s skull.

“Now that you’ve seen her,” he said darkly, “some ground rules. Number one: if you hurt her in any way, I’ll kill you. Number two: if you drink any of the booze in this house, I’ll kill you. Number three: you’re not to be alone with her at any time. During the day, I expect you to be out working. If you’re done before I get home, find another place to be. Number four…”

He stepped closer. His eyes narrowed.

“..._ No. Girls. _You have a car. Use it.”

Billy’s nostrils flared. “So… what? You're not gonna impound it?”

“Not yet.” The chief looked at him shrewdly. “_That _ depends on you.

“Now get cleaned up,” he said, hanging his hat by the door. “We're going out for dinner tonight.”

“You're fucking serious?”

“Like a heart attack.”

When the chief noticed Billy staring at him, his expression fell flat. “It's not for you, hotshot. We already had plans.”

With that, he walked down the hall toward what Billy assumed was his bedroom. Not even breaking stride, he pointed at another door to the left. “Bathroom,” he said.

Billy scoffed. This had to be a fucking joke.

Besides, what the fuck would he wear?

\--

Turned out the answer was: “clothes he wouldn't be caught dead in.”

He had to wear his jeans, of course. Not much choice there. He rubbed as much dirt off as he could, then hit them with room spray to freshen them up. They'd smell like an old lady till he washed them, but it was better than the smell of sweat.

The rest of his ensemble was a total loss. Sweat stains in the armpits, smears of dirt, the like. So, out of the goodness of his heart, Hopper lended him one of his Hawaiian shirts.

Even leaving it half-buttoned couldn't save it. As they piled into the truck to go on their dinner date, Billy was ready to either kill or be killed.

El sat between them. She was wearing the same clothes as before, but she'd managed to brush her hair and pull it back in a scrunchie. All told, she looked halfway decent.

Goddammit. He'd been outdone by a fucking _ fourteen-year-old_.

He spent the whole ride staring out the window, ignoring her existence. She stole glances at him a lot - he could feel it every time. But he wasn't about to reward her by looking back.

_ We're not friends, little girl. And we're not _ going _ to be friends_.

His attitude evaporated when they turned onto a street he recognized. Dread pooled in his stomach, and he sat up straight. _ No_. They weren't going _ there _for dinner. Were they?

They were. It was confirmed when they pulled onto a long private drive, the one he’d barreled down in his Camaro last Halloween.

_ “From now on, you leave me and my friends alone, do you understand? _

_ “Say it. _

_ “Say it!” _

As they stopped in front of the house, he clenched his fists so hard the nails cut into his palms. The universe was out to get him. If Hopper had known, he would've said something, right? So yeah, he didn't know, and the universe - or God, or karma - was using Hopper to punish Billy.

Not that it wasn't richly deserved, Billy thought.

The walk to the front door was the closest he had ever come to a walk of shame. His only saving grace was, as far as he knew, no one in this house had any idea he'd been here before. They didn't know he'd smashed plates, threatened children, and beaten Steve Harrington to the point of unconsciousness.

Unless the kids had told everyone. In which case, yeah. Walk of shame.

Hopper knocked on the door. The woman who answered looked kind but harried.

“Hiiiii,” she said with a smile, drawing it out the way middle-aged women loved to do. She turned to Hopper with a softer “hey,” and he stepped forward to kiss her. 

Okay, so this was the chief’s woman. Got it.

Billy glanced at the room behind her, where two boys stood some distance from the door - her sons, he guessed. The older one seemed vaguely familiar, probably from school, though if you'd asked Billy _ where _ in school, he couldn't have said. The younger one he'd never seen before. And yet--

\--his pupils dilated.

The younger one was staring at him with a recognition deeper than sight. He seemed shellshocked, like he was looking at a long lost twin. Billy stared back, and when the same recognition sparked inside him, it rocked him to the core. A single, unspoken thought leapt between them.

_ You're like me. _

Billy couldn't hide the shudder that swept through him.

Just then, the chief's woman said something about coming inside, dinner’s already out of the oven, yada yada. Billy dragged his eyes away from her son. As they filed through the door - Hopper first, then El, then Billy - El hung back a second to look at him. 

He met her look with a scowl. “What?”

She just looked at him, with eyes that saw far too much. Nettled, he jerked his chin at the door and mouthed, “_Go_.” She complied, though with squared shoulders that said, _ I'm going because I want to, not because you told me. _

“Fuck,” he muttered as he followed her inside.

This was going to be a terrible night.

\--

His prediction came true in spades.

Dinner itself was okay. Billy had never been a picky eater, and meatloaf was far from the worst thing anyone had ever served him. The sides weren't bad either - mashed potatoes, nicely salted, and steamed vegetables that were neither mushy or bland.

He had to hand it to Joyce Byers: she wasn't a bad cook.

But god, the company ruined the whole thing. They were packed in at the table like a bunch of sardines. To his left sat El, who he preferred to studiously ignore. To his right sat the kid - Will - who he preferred to ignore for other, more panic-inducing reasons. So that meant he could only look straight ahead, at the older Byers kid.

Billy speared a bite of meatloaf and tucked it in his mouth. Jesus, the guy looked like a fucking lizard.

“So, uh… Billy,” Joyce chirped from across the table. “Hopper tells me you're going to be working for him.”

“Uh huh,” Billy drawled, twirling his fork in his hand.

“Billy's got himself in a tight spot, so we're gonna get him straightened out.” Hopper took a bite of steamed broccoli.

“I see,” Joyce said. “And...you’ll be working for one of Hopper’s friends too? Yes?”

Billy didn't answer. He could feel the chief glare at him as he said, “Yeah, I talked to Merrill. We’re going over first thing in the morning.”

“Well, that sounds promising. I hope it works out.”

Silence fell over the table. Billy glanced back at Lizard Boy, who was pushing his mashed potatoes around on his plate. When he realized Billy was looking at him, he met his gaze uncomfortably.

Billy smirked. “Hawkins High?”

“Yeah,” Byers said, sounding very much like he didn’t want to talk at all.

“So why don't I recognize you?”

Byers shrugged and kept picking at his mashed potatoes. Joyce leapt to her son's defense with a smile.

“He works in addition to school. I don't make a lot of money, so he goes out of his way to help me. Even if it means he doesn't have time for friends.”

Her smile turned sweet, and she reached out to rub her son's back. It made Billy want to puke. Looking back at his plate, he speared a piece of cauliflower and ate it.

More silence. Eventually, Joyce cleared her throat. “Well... I hope everyone likes carrot cake.”

To Billy's right, a fork clinked as it was set down on a plate. “Actually, Mom… can I… be excused?” 

It was the first time Will Byers had spoken all evening. Though Billy kept his face neutral, as he took another bite of meatloaf, his senses went on high alert.

“Sure, sweetie. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired.”

“Okay. Go get some rest.”

Will's chair squeaked, and Billy felt a shift in energy as the kid left the table. At first he was relieved - one less person to eat an awkward dinner with. But as he picked at his vegetables, ignoring the conversation around him, a strange awareness tugged at the base of his neck. 

_ Go to him, _ it said. _ He's your brother. _

He slowed, gaze lifting from his plate. But just as quickly as the thought came to him, he shoved it down. _ Fuck no. Go fuck yourself. _

It came back. _ Go to him. _

_ No! _

_ Go to him! _

_ Fuck! You! _

His thoughts dissolved into a scream then, a horrible, high-pitched scream like static and a screech rolled into one. He all but threw his fork down on his plate. The others looked at him in alarm, Hopper stopping mid-sentence.

“Uh. Sorry. Uh…” He wiped his mouth on his napkin. “Where's your bathroom?”

Joyce stared at him, not quite registering his question for a few seconds. Then she blinked and gestured. “Oh! Uh...down the hall, first door on the left.”

“Thanks.”

He tossed his napkin on the table and stood. As he turned to leave, he caught El’s eyes. She was watching him with the same look as before, the one that made his innards wriggle in discomfort. He returned her look coolly, then walked away, adding some _fuck-you _swagger to his step.

For the sake of appearances, he made a pit stop in the bathroom. Then he slipped down the hallway, peeking through the doors until he found young Will’s bedroom. The kid was sitting on his bed, looking straight at the door, as if he knew Billy was coming.

Billy hesitated in the doorway. First, because he was startled to see Will staring right at him. Second, because it really hit him that, _ Christ, _ this kid was a nerd. Everything about him screamed it, from the way he dressed to his ridiculous bowl cut. Back when life was normal, Billy would’ve made a point of ignoring him, with only occasional looks of disdain to remind him that, _ yeah, you're weird. _

But nothing was normal now. Chewing his lip, Billy walked in.

As he scanned the room, a frown formed between his eyebrows. Something about this place felt...off. Like how he imagined a haunted house would feel. Someone - or some_ thing _ \- had left an indelible imprint in this place, like a hand in wet cement, or a smeary artifact in a photograph. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

And just like that, he knew.

_ Brother. _

Billy turned to Will, eyes widening. “He got you too.”

Will swallowed and nodded. 

“How’d they get him out of you?”

“They burned him out. I...I don’t really remember.”

The kid rubbed his arm, visibly mustering courage.

“H-how about you? Why didn't you die when they closed the gate?”

Billy hesitated. _ The wave was seven feet. _

“I...threw him out,” he said.

Will’s mouth fell open. “You did?”

“Yeah. I mean...I had help.” _ And you were happy. _“Then he died, and I lived. Somehow. I’m not…” He swallowed. “I’m not...sure what happened.”

“He didn't die.”

Billy’s heart stopped. “What?”

“We killed part of him,” Will said, voice falling to a murmur. His eyes were wide, his hands gripping the mattress. “The real him is still out there somewhere. In the...in the Upside Down.”

_ The Upside Down. _Billy had heard that term only once, when Max tried to explain what the fuck he’d just been through. He’d shoved it out of his mind, though, as he had so many other things. He’d just come out of a living hell, and he had no desire to think about it more than he had to.

And now here he was. Thinking about it. 

Funny how he used to believe he had a choice.

“So he can come back.” Billy stared hard at Will. “Whenever the hell he wants.”

“Not exactly. There has to be a...a gate. Between his world and ours.”

“And there are people out there opening gates.”

“Yes,” said a voice at the door.

Billy turned, feeling a stab of panic. It was El. She couldn't resist following him, of course, and forcing him to deal with _ two _ strange kids at the same time. 

Alright, fine. If he was gonna do this, he was going to commit. Folding his arms, he said, “Okay. So I'm guessing we can't do anything but wait. Hm? Somewhere out there, people are trying to open gates, other people are trying to stop them, and we're just caught in the crossfire. Am I right?”

El and Will looked at each other. After a bout of unspoken communication, El nodded slowly.

“Well, shit. What the fuck am I doing here, then.” 

Dropping his arms, he stalked toward the hall. El scrambled out of the way, then called after him, “Where are you going?”

“Outside. I need a smoke.”

As he walked through the dining room, everyone at the table stared at him. He ignored them all and blew through the front door.

This deal was getting worse all the fuckin' time.


	4. Nocturne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy and El have a conversation. Billy spends too much time alone with his thoughts.

They got back to the trailer around 9PM. Billy was simultaneously relieved (thank God they were out of that place) and pissed (what the fuck was he supposed to do now?). As they pulled up in the driveway, the shape of another vehicle sat off to the side. Billy didn't recognize it in the dark until Hopper drawled, “Oh, look. They finally brought your car over.”

His Camaro. _ Fuck! _ That meant someone else had driven it. _ Fuckin’ fuck! _

Hopper didn't even get a chance to park before Billy opened his door and jumped out. He slammed the door behind him, not caring if it startled Eleven, and stalked over to the car. It was too dark to see well, even with the porch light, but he checked for damage anyway, running his hands over the frame and peering at the head and tail lights. When he found no dents or broken glass, he opened the door and rummaged through his belongings in the passenger seat. 

Everything seemed to be in order. He still had his tapes, his stereo, and his clothes. 

Fuckin’ Hawkins. They had the chance to steal some awesome shit, and they blew it.

Sighing heavily, Billy stepped back from the car and ran his hands through his hair. It was okay; everything was okay. He still had the things that mattered most to him, and that meant he could come back from this. He _ could. _

Footfalls sounded on the porch steps, reminding him of Hopper and El’s existence. He realized he hadn't heard them leave the truck. They were going inside now. Good - maybe they’d leave him the fuck alone.

He stood stock still, glaring at his car, until he heard the front door open and close. Then he blew out a breath and relaxed, resting a hand against the car door.

Jesus Christ. What a fucking day. It didn't even feel like it'd been a single day. It felt like… a week. Two months. Twenty years.

He shook his head, tongue working in his mouth, then stood up straight and took his cigarettes from his pocket. When he glanced down, he saw the Hawaiian print of his shirt and… oh right. He was still wearing the hideous thing, and now he had his own clothes to change into. Stealing a look at the trailer - though he wasn't entirely sure why - he unbuttoned the shirt and ripped it off as fast as he could. Balling it up, he threw it on the ground and reached into the passenger seat for one of his own.

He didn't have another pair of jeans, unfortunately. Just shorts. So until he had a chance to wash these jeans, it'd be all shorts all the time. He added a pair to his bundle, as well as a fresh pair of boxers, then rounded his car so it was between him and the front porch. Safely hidden from the porch light, he shucked off his shoes, jeans, and underwear and changed into something more acceptable.

As he buttoned up his _ not Hawaiian _ shirt, he felt like a new man. Sighing, he opened the trunk and dumped his old clothes inside. Then he shut it, fluffed his curls and leaned against the car.

Alright, _ now _he could smoke. He dug his cigarettes out of the pocket of his shorts.

The porch light chose that moment to turn off. He jumped and immediately scolded himself. _ Fuck. _He wasn't a fucking little kid anymore. Grow up.

He spent the next few minutes puffing on his cigarette in silence. The only light on the ground was the end of his cigarette flaring in the dark. In the sky, stars twinkled everywhere like sprays of sea water. The moon hadn't come up yet. Not that he knew when it would.

The longer he stood there, the more he surprised himself. He hadn't been able to smoke outside in the dark like this since Starcourt. Every time he tried, the shadows started moving and twisting into each other like fucking tentacles. Last time, he'd nearly had a full blown panic attack.

Tonight was different though. He felt calm, like he wasn't alone. And he wasn't sure why until…

A step on the front porch creaked. He paused, registering the sound, then rolled his eyes.

“I know you're there, genius.”

She said nothing, but in the dark, he heard her huff in defeat.

“How long have you been there?” he asked. It wasn't _ his _fault if she'd seen him in nature's own.

“Just a couple minutes,” she said. There was no way to know if she was lying, but he doubted she was. Something told him she'd sound a lot more flustered if she'd been present for the Great Transformation.

He took his cigarette from his mouth. Rolled it between his fingers.

“Well, what do you want?”

“Nothing.”

Okay, _ that _was a lie. He picked at his teeth with his tongue. God, he hated it when little girls lied.

“Alright. Then you won't mind if I tell you to go the fuck to bed.”

“I don't have to go to bed till midnight.”

His eyebrows shot up, even though she couldn't see them. “Ohhh, I get it. You're all grown up, so you have a grownup bedtime. Excuse me for not realizing.”

He stuck his cigarette back in his mouth and breathed in. Dammit, why didn't Hopper corral his child? _ He _ was the one who said she wasn't allowed to be alone with Billy. And here she was, alone with him of her own free choice.

Well, if they got caught, he wasn't taking the fall for it. Blowing smoke in the air, he drew shapes in the gravel with his foot.

Silence reigned. In fact, Eleven stayed quiet for so long it started getting weird. Just as Billy was working up to a sarcastic remark, she said, “What happened tonight?”

“What?”

“Tonight. What happened tonight?”

There was only one thing she could mean. He puffed on his cigarette and pretended not to know. “I was just being my usual charming self. Why? You don't approve?”

“You knew him already. I saw it.”

Jesus, did this girl have to _ see _ everything? It was fucking annoying. Tossing his cigarette on the ground, he stomped it out.

“Yeah, okay. I knew him. Not sure how, but I did.”

“What did it feel like?”

“Fuck, I don't know. Like… meeting a long lost cousin. I don't know, what do you want me to say?”

“I'm just asking. You don't have to know.”

_ Alright, fine then. _ Scowling into the darkness, Billy lit another cigarette.

More silence. Eventually, Eleven sighed. He'd never heard her sigh quite like that before. Interesting.

“I just… wanted you to know,” she said, “that if you need to talk to anyone… you can talk to me. Okay?”

Billy scoffed. “I'm sure your dad would be happy about that.”

“What?”

He paused, cigarette dangling from his mouth. Wait a second. Did Hopper not tell his own daughter the rules?

Taking his cig out, Billy licked his lips. “Uh… your dad said I'm not supposed to be alone with you. I'm supposed to work my ass off all fucking day and then… I don't know. Stay outside like a dog or something.”

“He said _ what_?”

Her tone was low and deadly. Billy's eyes widened, and he took a long, slow puff of his cigarette. Shit, he'd just started something. He hadn't meant to, but… fuck.

When he said nothing else, he heard her get up from the steps. Stomping across the porch, she threw open the front door and stormed inside. He winced as the door slammed behind her, then blew out the smoke he'd been gathering in his mouth.

Well… this could either go really well or really badly for him. It depended on how much of a doting father Chief Hopper was… and how vindictive he could be.

When the yelling started, Billy decided it was time for a drive. Pushing himself off his perch, he rounded the car and got inside.

He hadn't driven at night in a while. Maybe it'd go better tonight, too.

\--

By the time he got back, it was well past midnight. The trailer was dark, and he fully expected the front door to be locked. Not that he cared that much. Honestly, by this point he was ready to sleep in his car again. If it meant being free of Hopper, then he'd sleep in a pile of shit.

Still, he found himself going to the door and trying it. When it opened, he felt a rush of relief. Okay… maybe he _ wasn't _ ready to sleep in his car again. Pushing the door open, he stepped through and shut it behind him. Inside, the living room was dark and quiet.

He lingered near the door a minute, feeling every inch the intruder. Obviously he wasn't; Hopper didn't seem the type to leave his door unlocked, and when Billy glanced at the couch, he saw a folded-up blanket and pillows that hadn't been there before. So yeah, they'd expected him to come back. It was fine.

But Christ, what was he doing here, really? What had possessed Chief Hopper to open up his home in the first place? It made no fucking sense. If it'd been up to Neil Hargrove, Billy would be on the streets right now, all because he couldn't keep it together after a fucking monster took over his body.

_ Hopper isn't Neil Hargrove. _ The thought echoed in Billy's mind, and he knew it to be true. Still, it was weird - too weird to contemplate. 

Swallowing, Billy stepped away from the door. He stole a glance down the hallway to confirm both bedroom doors were shut, then moseyed into the kitchen. He’d never finished his dinner, so he was fucking starving. Surely Hopper wouldn't mind if he had a midnight snack…

He realized upon opening the fridge that he'd made a mistake.

_ Fuck. _On the top shelf, glittering in the white light of the fridge, sat a beautiful six pack of Schlitz beer.

Billy's hunger instantly transmuted to thirst. He stared at the gorgeous, sweaty cans, imagined how cool and delicious their contents would taste going down his throat. It would be so easy to just knock one back right now. Or three. Or four. Hell, he could go out and buy a fresh six pack to replace the one he drank. Hopper would never know. Right?

But something held him back. Just… something. He wasn't sure what, and quite frankly, it pissed him off.

He growled. Grabbing the orange juice instead, he shut the fridge and drank straight from the carton.

\--

Half a carton of orange juice and a box of Ritz crackers later, he was on the couch with nothing to do but sleep. It fucking sucked. Sleep wasn't too appealing these days, considering it was full of nightmares. So he lay on the couch and fought. And thought.

_ Eleven. _He stared down the hallway and frowned. Who names a kid fucking Eleven? He knew there was a story behind it; Max had tried to explain that too. But at the time, he hadn't been too interested in listening--

Oh god, _ Max_. His eyes widened, and he sat up slightly. He hadn't thought about her all day. Hell, he hadn't called her all week. It'd been one of _ those _weeks, you know, the kind where the days ran together and everything was shitty.

Goddammit. He'd call right now if it wasn't fucking one in the morning. Scowling to himself, he lay back down and stared at the ceiling.

As great as it was being out from under his dad's thumb, it left him open to constant anxiety. Max had never had much to fear from Neil Hargrove. He was too busy keeping his degenerate son in check to worry about her. Also, she was a girl and, as far as Neil and Susan were concerned, a little sweetheart who just needed “guidance.”

What happened when Billy was no longer there to take up all the attention? Would Neil watch Max and realize she wasn't the sweetheart he'd imagined? Would he slam her into bookshelves and slap her across the face?

Billy's cheeks burned. Rubbing his chin, he looked at the phone on the kitchen wall. A fire smoldered in his gut, and he sighed harshly.

In the morning. He'd call in the morning.

\--

He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until the nightmares started.

They always began the same way, with him driving down the dark highway where he'd had his accident. Out of nowhere, something would hit his car, and inevitably he'd end up in that horrible place: the lower levels of the steel mill, with the clawed tentacle of a monster rammed down his throat.

Sometimes he woke up then. But not always. Sometimes he relived every horrible fucking minute of that horrible fucking week, all the way up to and including Starcourt. Tonight he made it to Starcourt.

But this time, something was different.

It wasn't El he shoved into the ground as she tried to escape. It wasn't El’s round, dark eyes looking up at him, pleading. It was Max, and she was sobbing.

“Please, Billy,” she cried, “don't let him get me! He'll kill me, Billy! Billy, _ please!_”

But he had no control. As the monster crept up behind him, as large as a building, he stood and stepped aside. The clawed tentacle reared back - the very same one that had violated him - and shot toward Max.

She screamed.

He must've screamed too, or cried out, or… something. Because right as it happened, the dream dissolved enough into reality to let him feel someone touch his face.

His eyebrows spasmed, and he jerked away. “No,” he muttered fiercely. It must've worked, because they didn't touch him again.

But before he descended back into dreams, he felt a blanket cover him and tuck itself around his chin.


	5. Six Thirty AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy calls Max, then leaves for his first day of work. Easy peasy... right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. October was a very, very rough month for me. :( But hey, better late than never, I suppose.

Billy woke to the sound of cabinets opening and silverware rattling in the kitchen. Breathing deeply through his nose, he turned his head and squinted in the general direction of the noise. It was Hopper getting breakfast - a bowl of cereal, from the looks of it.

_ Fuck me. _Billy grimaced and turned away. If Hopper was awake, that meant--

“Oh good, you’re alive.”

_ Fuck. _

Billy said nothing and burrowed deeper in his blanket. It was too early for Hopper, too early for bullshit, too early for anything.

Minutes ticked by in silence. Hopper ate his cereal without a word, his spoon scraping the sides of the bowl. The sound got really, really old after a while, but Billy kept his mouth shut. Maybe if he pretended Hopper wasn’t there, the chief would let him sleep a little longer.

Nope.

“Where’d you go last night?”

Oh, great. He was going to do _ this, _huh? Billy scowled. “What are you, my fucking dad?”

“Seems like it. Now tell me. Where. Did. You. Go?”

The spoon scraped the side of the bowl. Billy grit his teeth. God damn that spoon. God damn that bowl.

“I went for a drive. Alright? I went everywhere and nowhere. Anything to get away from--”

He hesitated. Hopper finished his thought. “From overhearing the two of us. Am I right?”

Billy didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. Hopper laughed humorlessly, taking another bite of cereal.

“I’m sure you’ve already figured out,” he said, “that El has a mind of her own. We’ve had some… interesting times together, her and I.” A pause. “But nothing we couldn’t work through.”

Billy sensed it coming then: a commuting of his sentence. And he was right.

“I was a little harsh, maybe, with my initial rules,” Hopper said, chewing thoughtfully. “El pointed it out, and I’m not above constructive criticism. So here’s my proposal - we strike the third rule. You can be alone with her in the house, but _ only-- _" he pointed his spoon at Billy "--with the understanding that I am, and will not hesitate to be, a murderous bastard if the situation calls for it. Are we clear?"

Billy’s relief soured at the question. He was so sick, _ so _sick of being treated like a child, like a simpleton who couldn’t understand the most basic language. But he knew better than to resist answering, so he grumbled, “Yes sir.”

“Good.” Hopper drank the milk out of his bowl. “Now get ready, we leave in twenty. Oh, and… wear clothes you don't care about.”

He deposited his bowl in the sink. As he turned to walk away, Billy sat up as quickly as his groggy self would allow. “Hey… hey, wait.”

Hopper stopped. Billy rubbed his eyes. Goddamn, he felt dead this morning. “I need ten extra minutes.”

“What for?”

“I need to call someone. My, uh… my sister.”

Hopper studied him. In that moment, Billy saw understanding dawn in his eyes. _ He knows. _

“Yeah, okay. Take fifteen.”

It was a generous gesture, and Billy felt an almost-smile tug at his lips. Thankfully, Hopper didn’t stick around to see it. He was already heading for his bedroom, too focused on getting dressed.

Billy yawned and shook his head to wake up. Dragging himself off the couch, he stretched his back nice and deep, then made a slow-but-steady beeline for the kitchen phone. Picking up, he dialed the only number he’d ever dialed these past few weeks.

The phone rang on the other end of the line. He chewed his lip. It was early, so he knew not to hope for too much. Still, he couldn’t keep his stomach from twisting in knots, his hand from twisting the cord of the phone.

Just as he was about to hang up, someone answered.

“Hello?”

“Susan?” He brightened. “Hi… it’s, uh... it's Billy.”

“Billy?” She sounded as groggy as he felt. “Good heavens, it’s early.”

"Yeah, I know, but I'll be busy all day and... well, I didn't want to wait."

"You're calling for Maxine?" Susan’s voice had a touch of warmth to it.

"Yeah, if you don't mind."

"I'll get her for you."

A minute passed, then someone else picked up.

"Billy?" Max, sounding sleepy and adorable.

“Heya.” Billy could feel another almost-smile coming on. Why did that keep happening?

"Shit, do you know what time it is?”

_ "_What can I say, I enjoy torturing you."

"Ain't that the truth.” She yawned. "So what's up?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to check on you."

"At 6:40 in the morning?"

"I have a job today. An actual job, if you can believe it."

"Whoa, really? How'd _ that _ happen?"

He told her the whole story. By the end, he could practically see her eyes dancing through the phone.

"Wow. Sounds like someone's looking out for you. Do you think there really is a God?"

"Cut the bullshit, I know you had a hand in this."

She sucked in a breath. "I… _ may _ have told a friend about the sufferings of my poor, desolate brother. Why, you think it got around to somebody?"

"It fucking did. And now I have to get up at 6:30 in the morning when I'd rather be sleeping off a hangover. So, thanks for that."

"It was my pleasure, Big Brother."

Another almost-smile. God, she was so fucking cute. If they were together right now, he'd ruffle her hair and make her yell at him.

"So." His voice went quiet, his tone serious. He turned his back to the hallway in case someone was listening. "How are you doing?"

He asked every time he called. She knew what he meant.

"I'm okay," she said, matching his quietness. "He... hasn't been around much this week. Really busy at work, I guess."

Billy's breath left him in a soft whoosh. He leaned over the phone, eyes shut. Part of him had been so sure something was happening. So sure...

"You'll tell me if that changes, right?" _ Please. _

"Yeah. I promise."

" 'Kay, good." 

Silence on the line. He'd asked the one question that was haunting him, and now he had ten minutes to fill.

"So." He licked his lip. _ Conversation, Billy, conversation. _ "How's your, uh... how's your, uh..."

"Plantar wart? Pet wallaby?"

"Boyfriend?"

"Lucas?" She snorted. "Same as ever. And we're still together... I guess."

"He hasn't been mean to you, right?"

"No. If anything it's the other way around." She laughed. "Oh my God. Wait till I tell you what happened last week..."

A smile crept onto Billy's face - a full smile - and he leaned his arm on the wall, settling in for the story. 

He had time… and he had no problem giving it to her.

\--

There was a chill to the air this early in the morning, making Billy regret he only had shorts to wear. As soon as they got in the truck, Hopper offered him a thermos of coffee. When Billy rejected it, Hopper raised his eyebrows. “You’re gonna need it.”

Rolling his eyes, Billy took the thermos, ignoring how nice its warmth felt in his hands. Great, he thought - his conversion into a blue collar worker was well underway.

As they pulled out of the driveway, Billy caught a glimpse of El looking out the living room window. In a flash, he remembered a hand touching his face in the middle of the night, a blanket tucking itself mysteriously around him. And he realized what he should’ve known earlier.

_ It was her. _

He blinked. Anger bubbled up inside him, and he rolled his tongue in his mouth. Fuck, he couldn’t handle this shit so early in the day. Gripping his thermos, he turned to stare out the window.

They’d been on the road for several minutes when Hopper asked, “How’s your sister?”

Normally Billy would’ve told him to go fuck himself, but a grim note in Hopper’s voice told him exactly why he was asking. It was the same reason Billy asked every time he called: Neil Hargrove had a reputation.

Billy shrugged. “She’s alright.” He hesitated a moment, then found himself muttering, “At least that’s what she tells me.”

"You think she’s lying to you?"

Billy shook his head and watched the trees roll by. It was hard to talk about this, especially with Hopper, for Christ's sake. But something compelled him to talk, just like something had compelled him to drink the orange juice instead of the beer.

"I don't know, man. She... she tries to be strong. Too strong."

_ And whose fault is that? _

His grip tightened on the thermos.

Hopper took a breath. Billy instantly knew he was about to say something stupid. "Well," the chief ventured, sounding awkward and fatherly, "it's, ah, good of you to keep tabs on her. Everyone deserves to have somebody in their corner."

_ There it is. _Billy stared straight out the windshield, his lips twisting in a bitter smile. "Is that why you took in the little lost boy?"

That caught Hopper off guard. Shifting in his seat, he put both hands on the steering wheel. "Billy--"

"No, I get it, chief. If you catch me now, it's one less body in the prison system, am I right? That's what you care about, isn't it, being a cop and all?"

Hopper said nothing. Billy couldn’t stop himself; the words tumbled out of him.

"Would be a shame, you know. A young, strapping lad like me rotting on a street corner with a bottle in his hand... or a needle in his arm. Such a waste of potential. The things I could've done for society! Now there's one less person to fix our cars. Or work himself to death in a fucking mill somewhere."

His voice lowered. "Such a shame. Isn't that right... _ chief_?"

Hopper was silent. Billy could feel the waves of anger rolling off him, and god he wanted him to act on it, wanted him to slap Billy clean across the face, all in the name of teaching him a lesson.

He didn’t. He didn't even look in Billy's direction. Instead, with his hands still gripping the steering wheel, he said stiffly, "I am… _ sorry… _ you feel that way, Billy."

It was the most unsatisfying answer Billy could've gotten. Gritting his teeth so hard it hurt, he looked out the window again. His cheeks burned like hot coals.

_ Fuck you too, chief. _

\--

Billy was still fuming when they pulled onto the dirt road leading into the farmer’s field. His anger only mounted as he looked around at the rows and rows of plants - pumpkins, from the looks of them - and realized they were driving straight into his favorite smell: the smell of shit.

The moment they parked and got out of the truck, Billy’s nose wrinkled in abject disgust. The stench surrounded him like a cloud. No - like a huge, all-encompassing fog. He could practically feel it seeping into his pores, his hair, his clothes. He was probably going to smell like shit for the rest of his life, and all because Hop decided to “straighten him out.”

_ God. Fucking. Dammit. _

By the time he spotted the old man sidling toward them, his mood had turned cold. Sure, the old man was probably the farmer who owned this field, but Billy didn’t bother hiding the sneer on his face. Seriously, who the fuck cared? Let Mr. Farmer Man see how much Billy hated this place. Maybe then he’d tell them to fuck off, and Hopper would have to go back to square one. God, that would be hilarious_. _

“Mornin’, Hop,” drawled the farmer as he approached them. “This the boy?”

_ Boy. _Billy’s nostrils flared.

“Yep.” Hopper pushed up his hat. “Merrill, Billy Hargrove. Billy Hargrove, Merrill.”

The farmer reached out to shake Billy’s hand. Grudgingly, Billy let him take it. Fuck, just get this over with.

As they shook hands, the farmer glanced down at Billy’s shorts. He smiled in benign amusement. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Nah, I’m good.” It was a bald-faced lie; his legs were freezing.

Merrill saw through the lie. Billy could tell by the wry quirk of his lips. “Well, it’ll warm up a bit by afternoon. Come on, I’ll show you around. You too, Hop.”

He turned to lead them into the field. Billy lagged behind at first, but when Hop glanced back at him with _ that _look, Billy rolled his eyes and caught up. Good fuckin’ God, he couldn’t wait for Hopper to get off his back. That was one thing this job would be good for: getting him away from Hopper every day.

They walked between two rows of pumpkins, treading carefully on the damp soil. Billy looked around, trying not to seem too interested. He’d never seen pumpkins on the vine before. Hell, he’d never even realized they grew on vines. It made sense, of course, now that he thought of it. They had stems, and they were way too big to grow on trees. So… vines along the ground. Got it.

An odd feeling tickled the back of his neck. He rubbed it absent-mindedly.

“Usually, Billy, I open my field up around October-time, let people pick their own pumpkins,” Merrill said. “But not this season. After last year’s _ incident"_ \- he cast a significant glance at Hopper - “I can’t be sure my pumpkins’ll be up to snuff. So I’m doing it the old-fashioned way: pick ‘em and sell ‘em.

“That’s where you come in. I need you to help me pick ‘em, load ‘em on a truck, and take ‘em to the barn. I’ll show you how to tell when a pumpkin is ripe, how to cut it off the vine, and all that. But I’ll also tell you what to look for when a pumpkin is, ah… _ compromised._”

He cast another significant glance at Hopper. This time Hopper frowned. “What, you think it’ll happen again, Merrill?”

“I dunno, Hop. I got the soil tested, but I don’t trust it. And I don’t trust that damn Eugene, either. You can bet your bottom dollar I’m keepin’ a careful eye on my pumpkins this year.”

The odd feeling tickled the back of Billy’s neck again. He ignored it, even though he wanted to reach up and slap at it. “What happened last year?” he ventured.

“It was the damnedest thing. My entire field of pumpkins rotted overnight. Overnight! And it wasn’t like any rot I’d ever seen. Smelled like death, too.” Merrill shook his head. “To this day I don’t know what happened. Could’ve been disease. Could’ve been poison. But I’m not takin’ any chances, and that’s that.”

He kept talking, but Billy tuned him out. Looking down, he studied a pair of pumpkins at his feet. They were perfectly average looking; nothing special about them. But something drew him closer - a feeling - a need to touch. Bending over, he brushed his fingers over their hard rinds--

\--and his mind exploded with images.

_ Tentacles slithering through the soil. _

_ Growing, feeding, _killing--

He ripped his hand away so fast he nearly fell over. Thankfully, neither Merrill or Hopper were looking his way, so they didn’t notice.

As their voices murmured in the background, Billy ran a shaky hand down his face. _ Fuck. _ Of course this would happen. Of course he would get a job picking pumpkins in a field that had been tainted by...by _ it_. Would he get blindsided every time he touched one of these damn things? He wouldn’t, would he?

Hopper and Merrill discussed a few more topics - what time Hopper should come pick Billy up, other tasks Merrill needed help with - but Billy barely paid attention. Eventually the conversation ended, and Hopper turned to go back to the truck. Billy followed him until they were out of earshot. 

“He doesn’t know,” he said.

“Know what?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Hop. I might be an asshole, but I’m not stupid. I know _ he’s _ been here.”

Hopper stopped in his tracks. Turning, he locked eyes on Billy, and to Billy’s surprise he looked completely serious. “Who?”

“You know who.”

A beat passed as Hopper stared at him. Then, glancing toward the retreating figure of the farmer, Hopper stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Do you feel something? Sense something?”

It was the first time they’d broached the subject of… _ him. _Billy swallowed, suddenly nervous. “I don’t know, it’s just… an impression. Like something crawling up my neck. I don’t know, I can just tell he’s been here.”

Technically true, but not the whole truth.

Hopper stepped even closer. Billy had never seen him look so grave, so concerned. “Is he here now?”

_ God, I hope not_. “No. No, it feels faded, like… like a memory, or... something.”

Hopper's expression relaxed, though he remained somber and watchful. He scanned the field around them - slowly, as if looking for a tentacle wriggling in the open air - then turned to Billy.

"If you feel _ anything,"_ he said, "that suggests he might be coming back, you tell me _ immediately. _Do you understand?"

For some reason, the question didn't anger Billy as much as it usually did. "Yeah."

Hopper nodded silently. Stepping back, he scanned the field one more time before turning for the truck.

"Pick you up at five," he called, not even bothering to direct it over his shoulder.

Billy blew out a breath as he watched the chief go. Damn… Hopper was fucking intense. Then again, now that the moment was here, Billy wasn't so eager to be left alone with a crusty old farmer. At least Hopper was a known entity. This guy? Who knew the incredible ways he'd learned to be annoying over the years?

_ I should've told Hop what I saw. _

The thought came out of nowhere, but Billy was quick, and he shut it out instantly. _ Fuck no. It's none of his business. _

"Billy!"

Billy turned to see Merrill staring at him from a short distance away. The farmer gestured with his arm. "Let's get started," he called, and turned to retreat into the field.

_Fuck. _Rolling his eyes, Billy followed, trying not to drag his feet _too _much.


	6. The Puppy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy eats dinner with Hopper and Eleven for the first time. (Kind of.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this chapter was going to be over 4000 words(!), but I felt like that was too long. So I cut it in half(ish), and I'm saving the rest for chapter 7 :D Meaning chapter 7 will be out pretty soon :D :D

It was the dullest, most grueling day of work Billy had ever experienced. Yesterday included.

After showing him all the ropes involved in harvesting pumpkins - a boring-ass tour Billy could've gone his whole life without - Merrill set him loose with a sharp knife and instructions to “be gentle with my babies.” Billy nearly scoffed in the man’s face, but he stopped himself. If he had too much of an attitude, Merrill would tell Hopper, and Hopper would almost definitely punish him. Maybe even by taking his car - and that would be a fucking disaster.

So he did the work, and that meant the rest of the day was an endless loop of the same motions. Bend over, cut, bend over, cut, carry pumpkins to the flatbed, go back down the row, and repeat. Occasionally he would touch a pumpkin and that _ feeling _ would crawl over his skin again. The hair on the back of his neck would stand up, and he'd jerk his hands away, curling his fingers in pure hatred. By the afternoon, though, he'd learned how to shove the feeling out of his mind each time it happened. He’d even learned to anticipate it. A smaller feeling would always come before it: a sensation like the wind shifting direction, or an electric charge building in the air. As long as he got that warning, he could lock himself down so tight nothing would get through. Eventually he was doing it on reflex. When he realized that, he couldn't help but smirk. _ Yeah, fuck you. I'm in control here. _

Everything else sucked all the way through. The smell, the temperature, the constant bending over and sawing at stems. By the time Hopper’s truck rumbled down the drive at 5pm, Billy's feet and back were sore, and he'd laid multiple curses on Halloween, Thanksgiving, and any seasonal dish that used pumpkins.

As Hopper got out of the truck, Billy was already walking up, stripping the gloves from his hands. He hoped Hopper would see him and get back in the truck. His passenger was already here, so why wait?

But no. Hands in his coat pockets, Hopper walked right past Billy. "Wait here," he said.

Billy watched him go. He was heading for Merrill, no doubt to ask for a thorough report of the day. The thought sent a hot spike of anger through Billy's chest, and as he turned toward the truck, he twisted his gloves in his fists.

_ Fuckin' fine. I'll smoke, you talk. _

He was halfway through his second cigarette when Hopper returned. The chief was staring at the ground as he walked, lost in thought. He didn't even throw a glance Billy's way. He just got in the truck, apparently trusting that Billy would follow suit - which, of course, Billy did, flicking his cigarette away.

For the first few minutes of the drive, Hopper said nothing. He only stared out the windshield, a single hand on the steering wheel. It was unnerving. He wasn't angry at all; Billy had gotten extremely good at detecting anger over the years, and he didn't catch a single whiff of it in the air. So what in God's name was eating at the chief?

Soon Billy couldn't take it anymore. He leaned his head back on the headrest. "I was that bad, huh?"

"What?" 

"Today. He tell you something you don't like?"

Billy didn't look, but he could practically hear the gears turning in Hopper's head. Damn, Merrill and Hopper must've been talking about something else completely, because the chief was _ never _ this slow.

Finally, Hopper realized what Billy meant. "Oh, no. No, you were fine," he said dismissively, as if Billy's work performance was the least of his worries.

After that, silence fell over the cab again. Billy risked a sideways glance. Sure enough, Hopper had gone back to staring out the windshield, his eyes distant. Though Billy fought to keep his expression neutral, he couldn't help but frown a little. Not that Hopper would notice.

Well, he wasn't in a position to ask questions, so he had no choice but to let it go. Clenching his jaw, he turned to watch the darkening sky and tried not to imagine a shadow looming over the horizon, watching him in return.

\--

Eleven was waiting at the door when they got back. Hopper walked in first and, to Billy's annoyance, blocked the door long enough to give her a “hey kiddo” and a hug. Then he stepped out of the way, and El caught sight of Billy. Her face lit up.

“Hi,” she said. Suddenly he pictured a puppy with round, dark eyes, and it made him want to squirm. He pushed past her, ignoring her as best he could when she was so fucking close.

“I'm getting a shower,” he told Hop over Eleven's head. Not because he thought Hop needed to know, but because it would underscore how much he was _ not _ talking to Eleven.

“Sure, go ahead,” Hop mumbled, taking off his coat. He was looking at the floor and, again, seemed to have barely heard. For a second it was actually annoying. The next, Billy was walking away, enticed by the promise of hot water and privacy.

The instant the bathroom door shut behind him, he breathed a sigh of relief. Stripping off his clothes, he tossed them in the corner and turned on the shower. As soon as it was hot - which didn't take long, thank God - he stepped in and nearly groaned out loud. The hot water felt incredible to his chilled skin, its needle-like pressure soothing to his sore muscles. Ducking his head under the water, he let it run over his hair and body, breathing deeply of the warm, wet air.

It took him a while to start washing himself. As he did, his thoughts wandered to the events of the day. Soon he was scrubbing his skin so hard it turned red and raw.

There was a lot to be pissed about. Pumpkins, pumpkin farmers, the smell of shit, Hopper. But one thing kept returning to his mind, tinging his anger with a hint of anxiety.

_ What the fuck do I do about _her?

For all her "gifts," Eleven had little in the way of social instincts. Or maybe she was just stubborn. Whatever the deal was, she seemed incapable of understanding and _ respecting _ his signals. Would he have to come right out and tell her to fuck off? Because he would do it without hesitation.

_ Would you? _ asked a small voice. He pictured himself kicking a puppy in the face, and he flinched. 

_ Fuck you, _he thought to no one in particular. She wasn't a fucking puppy. She was a fourteen-year-old girl, and he wasn't about to let her manipulate him with her adolescent cuteness. End of story.

He stayed in the shower longer than he had any right to. By the time he was dressed, dry, and ready to eat, Hopper and Eleven were at the table, eating the last few bites of dinner. Padding into the kitchen in bare feet, Billy cast a lazy glance at the spread on the countertop. Sliced ham, reheated peas, and canned corn: the kind of meal a single dad would make.

"Help yourself," Hopper said from the table. So he didn't expect Billy to join them. Good. 

As he loaded up a styrofoam plate, Billy sucked his teeth quietly, musing on the problem of where to eat. Sitting on the couch would be just as weird as sitting at the table. Eleven could see him from there, and she'd probably keep _ looking _at him like the little asshole she was. So that was out of the question.

He could eat in the car, maybe? But no… no, that felt desperate, and Billy Hargrove wasn't desperate. Which left going out on the back deck to eat. It'd be cold, but right now, that seemed like the lesser of two evils. 

So that's what Billy chose. Grabbing a plastic fork, he breezed past the dinner table and went to the back door. As he unlocked it, he felt Hopper's gaze fix on him like two burning prongs, and he braced himself for a reprimand, or at least a sharp question. 

It never came. He escaped outside without incident, and as he walked to the railing, he glowed with a strange sense of accomplishment.

He stood there for several minutes, plate propped on the railing as he ate. The night was thick out here. Though the light from the trailer illuminated the deck, he couldn't see the lake. He could just sense it out in the darkness, a void that suggested a wide open space.

He was halfway through his dinner when the back door squeaked open. He choked on a bite of corn, recovering just quickly enough to act like nothing had happened. Footfalls sounded on the deck, and he looked over to see Eleven set a plate on the rail, smiling shyly.

He clenched his fists and looked back at his plate. _ Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. _

"Dad got pie."

He said nothing. Twirling his fork, he turned his attention to his pile of peas.

Not to be deterred, she pressed forward. "Do you like pie?"

_ Don't answer. Don't answer. _

He answered. "It's alright."

The next couple minutes passed in silence. To her credit, Eleven wasn't the type to talk for talking's sake. Usually he liked that in a person, no matter how old they were.

But now? Now it was excruciating. He felt her presence like a white-hot light. Every nerve burned, and he wished he could crawl out of his skin and leave it behind. Use it as a decoy, maybe, and let her smile at _ that_.

Then he glanced over in time to see her eat her last bite of pie. He did a double take, a forgotten lump of ham in his mouth.

Yep... yep, she'd inhaled that slice of pie in less than two minutes.

Her presence burned a little less after that. As he finished his food - and she licked her plate clean like a starving animal - his mind churned with questions that, until now, he hadn't let himself ask. Finally, one of them jumped out.

"What the hell do you do all day?"

She stopped mid-lick. "What do I… do?"

"Yeah. You were here all fucking day from the time we left to the time we got back. I'm guessing that's normal. So… what do you do?"

She glanced to the side and back, confused, as if this was a weird question. "I… do school. School assign--" she stumbled over the word "--'school assignments.' Dad makes me read. And s-sometimes I write."

"Anyone teach you?"

"Dad. And Mrs. Byers, sometimes."

Goddamn. So her everyday life was staying in this fucking trailer and seeing two of the most boring-ass adults in all creation. How nice for her.

Billy fiddled with his late bite of corn. Part of him wanted to drop the conversation. The rest of him couldn't help but continue. "When do you ever… you know… get out? You're friends with my sister. When do you see her?"

El shrugged. "She visits me. Sometimes Dad takes me to see her."

"But you're still alone here most of the time."

Her face fell. Looking down, she used her fork to poke holes in her styrofoam plate.

" 'It's not safe,' " she mumbled, obviously quoting Hopper, but in a way that suggested she believed it.

Billy studied her a moment, then looked away too. He thought of a monster as big as a building, of Eleven lying prone on the floor as it loomed over her, waiting to claim its prize…

Yeah. She wasn't safe out there.

He flexed his fingers, staring out at the darkness. He fought the urge to say something nice, to comfort the wounded puppy. But he did it anyway, and his voice sounded strange to his ears. Too thick. Too husky.

"Well, it's not gonna be this way forever. One day you're gonna grow up, and you're gonna be so strong nothing can hurt you like that ever again."

Though he didn't look at her, out of the corner of his eye he saw her smile up at him. A warm rush of pride flooded through him, and he nearly smiled too.

Then he realized what he'd just done, and the air left his lungs.

_ FUCK. _Biting his lip savagely, he bent his styrofoam plate in half. He still had some corn left, but he didn't care. 

He'd just made a huge mistake. _ Huge. _He'd fed the puppy, and now it would follow him around indefinitely, unless he kicked it good and hard.

_ And you don't want to do that, do you. _

He swallowed. Turning from the rail, he went inside, bent plate in hand.

Hopper was still at the table, picking at his own slice of pie. He looked up as Billy came in, and their eyes locked. For a second, Billy expected to be yelled at, maybe even tossed out on his ear with nowhere to go. He'd just had a "moment" with Hopper's daughter, and wasn't that what Hopper wanted to avoid?

Instead, the chief worked his jaw - carefully, thoughtfully, as if he'd just seen something he didn't like but couldn't argue with - and went back to eating his pie. 

Billy couldn't get out of there fast enough. Tossing his plate on the counter, he hurried to the bathroom to grab his shoes, which were still sitting by the shower. 

"Gonna go find a laundromat," he announced, crossing the living room to scoop his dirty clothes off the couch. Through the back door, he could see Eleven turn to walk inside. _ Fuck! _

Hopper wiped his mouth on his napkin. "You got money?"

"Yeah." Billy crossed to the front door, not even bothering to put on his shoes. He could do that in the car, away from _ them_.

"Alright, be back by ten this time - and don't--!"

Billy slammed the door before Hopper could finish. He didn't need to hear the rest, anyway. He could imagine a million different _ don'ts _from Hopper, and none of them were to his taste.


	7. Encounter in Downtown Hawkins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy goes downtown to do some laundry. He regrets it soon after.

He ended up at a laundromat in downtown Hawkins. Almost immediately he realized he'd exchanged one kind of suffering for another.

It was the place small-town moms went to die. Fluorescent lighting cast a wan pallor over what felt like miles of cheap, checkered floor. Various laundry machines, some old, some new, lined the walls from top to bottom. In the center of the room, a bunch of vinyl chairs formed a line of their own, some facing one wall, some facing the other. An elderly woman was sitting in one of the chairs reading a dusty-looking novel. Next to her sat a teenage girl, probably seventeen if Billy had to guess. She was flipping through a trashy magazine - or at least, she was when she wasn't staring at Billy through her eyelashes.

As Billy stuffed his clothes into a washing machine, he could feel her gaze roving his back. Lazily, he reviewed the girl's looks in his mind. He'd only seen her for a couple seconds as he passed her. Judging from that brief glimpse, though, he'd say she was pretty enough. Her face didn't do much for him, but she had a long blonde hair and a petite body. In a period of sexual famine, like the one in which he found himself, he would absolutely tap that.

Too bad she was guarded by a crusty old grandmother. 

And too bad he was too fucking tired to scheme ways to separate them.

Sighing to himself, he threw some detergent in the machine and jammed quarters in the coin slot. He lingered long enough to make sure the machine started, then turned to go outside. 

He met the girl's eyes. Saw a dull flicker of heat suggesting the hurried entwining of bodies.

He looked away as casually as he could.

_Too much trouble. Sorry_. Buttoning up his coat, he pushed through the front door, leaving all thought of the girl behind.

The temperature had dropped even further over the past hour. Luckily for Billy, he was still wearing shorts. Ignoring the goosebumps on his legs, he hiked up his collar and glanced around. 

Downtown was surprisingly busy for a Thursday night. Some event had drawn out the local populace. Cars were parked all along the street, blocking his view of most stores. Here and there, scattered groups of people wandered or stood talking. 

Billy rolled his eyes. They were probably here for bingo night or some shit like that. What else would they do in this hick town? Especially with the mall shut down. 

_The mall. _ Just like that, his thoughts stuttered to a stop. A chill passed through him, and he could hardly remember what he'd been feeling the moment before. 

_Fuck_. The next two hours were going to suck. With sudden violence, he dug in his pocket for his cigarettes. As soon as he'd lit one, he turned to saunter down the sidewalk, letting his feet take him where they will.

It didn't matter where he went. All that mattered was he kept moving.

A middle-aged couple crossed the street in front of him. They were holding hands, laughing and smiling. Billy watched them, breathing smoke deep into his lungs. A tendril of darkness curled through his mind.

None of these people - these laughing, smiling people - had any idea what had happened. None of them. They thought a fucking fire had destroyed the mall. And as for Billy, they thought he was just a survivor of said fire. They didn't know the fire had been burning _ in _ him, scorching his skin from the inside out. They didn't know he still bore the scars. They didn't know that, for a while afterward, he'd looked at his hands and not recognized them as his own. He'd grown so used to being a prisoner in his own body, screaming and beating its walls while it did terrible things.

No one knew except Max and her friends. And Hopper. And Eleven.

_If you need to talk to anyone… you can talk to me. Okay?_

Billy bit down hard on his cigarette. 

On the other side of the street, someone let out a whoop. Glancing over, Billy saw a bunch of young men stumbling down the sidewalk, laughing and yelling at each other. For a moment he imagined himself at the front of the group, drunk as fuck, yelling louder than the rest.

Then he put two and two together, and he stopped in his tracks. A shockwave, small but electric, shot through his body.

There was a bar nearby.

People were here _ for the fucking bar._

His heart beat faster. Stealthily, he looked down the street, searching for neon signs. When he didn’t see any, his feet started moving of their own accord. Before he knew it, he wasn’t just walking down the sidewalk; he was striding with purpose, his every sense tuned to the hunt.

He found it a couple blocks away: a hole-in-the-wall that was clearly the source of the activity. A few patrons were standing around outside, chatting. Others kept filing in and out, releasing the plaintive wail of loud, cheesy country music each time they opened the door. 

It wasn't his kind of bar - not in the least. But right now, he hardly cared. As he stood frozen on the other side of the street, he could only think of a frothy glass of beer; amber bubbles gushing upward; the knots in his brain loosening, loosening, until he was laughing his ass off, on top of the world.

His free hand drifted to the wallet in his pocket, where he kept his fake ID. As he fingered its hard plastic edge, his gaze landed on a patron coming out of the bar. The man was turned halfway, talking to someone behind him, but Billy recognized the jacket and crew cut instantly. Before he could react, the man turned, looked clear across the street, and met his eyes. The man stopped - and so did Billy’s heartbeat.

_Oh fuck. Oh _ fuck_._

It wasn't fair. For a split second, he'd wondered if the universe was cutting him some slack, giving him enough room to breathe and maybe, just maybe, get back on his feet. 

But no, that had been a lie, just like so many other things. The ground beneath him was shifting, getting ready to throw him down again, to buck him off like a raging bull.

And he may never get another chance to get up.

Eyes stinging, Billy whirled around to leave, but caught himself. No... it was too late. If he left now, he automatically lost. So he turned back toward the bar, shoving his free hand in his pocket. The other he lifted, trembling, to take a long drag of his cigarette. 

_Pretend you don't care. Pretend you don't care._

Neil Hargrove swaggered to the edge of the sidewalk. There he paused, staring at Billy, as if trying to assess him from afar. When his efforts failed, he glanced both ways and stepped into the street. 

Billy couldn’t look at him as he approached. He studied the cracks in the sidewalk instead, first this one, then that one.

"Look at you. You're sober."

In any other mouth, those words could’ve sounded like praise. Neil Hargrove delivered them with biting sarcasm. Billy didn’t answer. Taking one last drag of his cigarette, he threw it on the concrete and ground it under his heel.

"What? You're not going to acknowledge your own father?"

"I don't want to talk to you," Billy said quietly.

"Oh, so a man can't check on how his son is doing?"

_A _ man _ can. Not you. _

Billy wanted so badly to say it, but he knew better. He thought of his cigarettes and wished his hands would stop shaking so he could get out a fresh one.

"You sleeping in your car?"

Neil's tone dripped with disdain at how low his son had sunk. It stung, and against his better judgment Billy snapped, "Actually, no."

"Oh, really?" Neil huffed a laugh. "Did one of your little whores take you in?"

"No, they didn't."

"Then where are you staying?"

"It's none of your business."

Neil glowered at this, but surprisingly he didn't lose his temper. Shifting his weight to his rear foot, he eyed Billy up and down. 

"Your sister misses you."

Billy scoffed. "Yeah, well, I didn't exactly choose to leave."

Neil blinked as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. He stepped forward. "_What _ did you say?" 

Billy's mouth went bone dry, and he looked his father dead in the eye. “N-nothing.” 

“That didn’t sound like nothing.” Neil moved closer, prompting Billy to back away. "Are you saying it's _ my _fault?"

"I'm-- I'm not saying that.”

"Really? 'Cause I think that's exactly what you're saying." 

Neil took a final step forward, and Billy’s back hit brick. He'd reached the building behind him.

Nowhere to run.

Folding his arms, Neil looked Billy up and down again. When he spoke, he sounded calm, thoughtful, like he was the most long-suffering parent in the world.

"You know, I'd hoped this would teach you a lesson. I'd even thought about inviting you back home. We could've let you have a trial run, see if you’re capable of living peacefully with us.”

His features darkened. “I guess that was too much to ask. Your sister needs a good example at home, and you don't have one to give.”

Suddenly Billy forgot the wall at his back. "Why? What's going on with her?”

Neil sighed and rolled his eyes. “There’s been some trouble. A little acting out. But don’t worry, _ your stepmother and I _ have it under control.”

Chills cascaded down Billy’s spine. He stared helplessly at his father, heart beating so loudly he could hear it.

Giving Billy a final once-over, Neil seemed to decide he'd had enough. "Well," he said, his voice acidic, "take care of yourself, son." He turned and retreated a few steps, only to stop at the edge of the sidewalk for a parting shot. "Oh, and for God's sake, put on some pants. It's not summer anymore."

With that, he crossed the street. 

Billy stayed frozen until Neil disappeared down the sidewalk on the other side. Then his breath left him, and he slumped against the wall behind him. Fighting his shaking hands, he dug out a cigarette and lit it. 

It was okay. He was okay. He'd encountered Neil Hargrove, but he'd survived, just like he'd always done.

_He's hurting her. He has to be._

As the thought sank into him, stirring up a cold plume of fear, Billy's stomach churned, and he shut his eyes. He remembered his dream, remembered Max screaming his name, and dragged hard on his cigarette.

He couldn't know for sure. Yeah, he felt it in his bones, especially now. But if he asked Max straight out, _ hey, is Dad hitting you?, _ she'd definitely deny it. Though it boggled his mind, she apparently wanted to protect her douchebag brother. And she knew if she told him the truth, he'd fling himself right back in the fire.

So there was no way to find out, really, unless he saw it for himself. And short of a twenty-four-hour stakeout, how would he do that?

_Fuck. This is my fault._

His eyes started to burn. Pushing off the wall, he rubbed them with his free hand.

Just then, he remembered something he'd forgotten. He paused with his hand on his eyes, then lowered it slowly. 

There _ was _ a way to find out. A secret way. He wouldn't be "seeing for himself," but it'd be the next best thing.


	8. Hunting for Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy asks Eleven to do him a favor.

It felt like the longest load of laundry he'd ever done. Still, he managed to get back to the trailer around 8:30, an hour and a half before curfew.

He threw the car in park and switched off the engine. Leaning his elbow on the door, he stared at the light streaming out the trailer windows. Hopper would still be awake. That meant he'd have to wait till Hopper went to bed... _ or _ find a way to get El alone. Typically, he'd be in no hurry to talk to El of all people, but now was different. Now the thought of waiting made him want to claw his face off. 

So he eyed the living room window, rubbed his lip with his thumb, and deliberated.

A minute later, he smirked to himself. Fuck. Here he was, straining for an answer, when really it was laughably simple. Stepping out of the car, he slammed the door so loudly it echoed through the trees. Then he lit a cigarette and wandered to the porch, sitting heavily on the steps.

And there he stayed.

To her credit, he waited longer than he expected. Almost too long. The shadows had begun to move, slithering down the driveway toward him, by the time he heard Hopper calling from inside.

"Come on, El, leave him alone. El. _ El!_"

The front door cracked open.

"Billy?" came a soft voice.

_ God, finally. _

Billy tore his eyes from the driveway, where the shadows were in full retreat. "Hey." He looked over his shoulder. "Mind coming out for a minute?"

Eleven hesitated, peering through the crack. Her hand was frozen on the doorknob. 

Interesting - so she _ had _been watching his signals. She knew he would never request her presence willingly, and the fact that he had meant something was going on. Lips twitching, Billy breathed out a stream of smoke and turned his back to her, hoping it would set her at ease.

It worked. Slowly, she stepped out onto the porch. The door closed behind her, and her bare feet shuffled toward him. When at last she sat on the step beside him, he stifled the urge to recoil. Tapping ash from his cigarette, he cleared his throat.

"I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

"I need you to check on my sister."

He sensed her frown. "What do you mean?"

"You know that power you have to just--" he gestured vaguely "_\--see _ people? That's what I mean. Use that to check on her for me."

"I… can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I…"

She trailed off. Billy glanced at her. She met his eyes at first, then looked away, her hands twisting in her lap. In a flash, Billy remembered her pummeling his chest weakly on the floor of Starcourt Mall, exhausted, with no powers to speak of. Suddenly he understood. He turned to stare at the ground, a knot forming in his throat.

"Have you tried?" he asked quietly. 

"Not…" El swallowed. "Not recently."

"Well, I need you to try." 

She didn't reply. He played with his cigarette, flipping it between his pointer and middle fingers, trying to shove down a hot surge of panic. But in a heartbeat, it exploded.

"_Please_." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Something's wrong, I can feel it. I just… I need to find out what, and I can't do it on my own. I need help. Please."

He felt her look at him, and though he couldn't bring himself to look back, he knew her eyes were welling with emotion. His desperation was on full display; he could feel it in his taut muscles and trembling fingers. Usually that would humiliate him. 

Not this time.

She reached over and put her hand on his arm. Her touch burned, but he didn't move.

"I'll try," she said. "Tonight, when Dad's asleep."

Breathing out, he turned away from her. _ Thank God. _"That's all I ask."

He went back to smoking. Her hand fell from his arm, but she stayed next to him, saying nothing. He finished his first cigarette and started a new one, steadfastly ignoring her.

Finally, she stood. As she walked up the steps, her footfalls were slow - morose, even. A pang of guilt stirred him, and before he could catch himself he said, "Hey."

She stopped. He looked over his shoulder. "Thanks."

She offered him a small smile. Cheeks burning, he turned away and studied the fascinating minutiae of the gravel beneath his feet. He didn't look up or even breathe until he'd heard the front door shut behind her.

Then he sighed. Bending over, he hung his head.

He stayed out there smoking for a long time.

The shadows never came back.

\--

Hopper retired to his room around 9:30. That seemed early for him, and Billy suspected he was being nice. _ Poor kid, forced to stay in a trailer with an old grump and a nosy little girl. I'll give him some space. _

The light stayed on in his room, though, which meant they had to wait. Eleven settled on the couch, where she snacked on potato chips and watched Night Court on television. Billy sat at the table, flicking his lighter open and closed. He barely registered the sound of the television or the crunching of her incessant eating. He didn't even see the room around him - the soft golden light of the lamps, the wood paneling on the walls, the ugly carpet. 

No, he saw something else entirely.

A long, white hallway under sickly fluorescent light. His sister in shorts and braids, standing at the end of it. His field of view moving toward her as he shambled down the hallway, unable to stop, unable to turn around.

Her expression was panicked. Pleading.

_ Billy, you don't have to do this. Billy, your name is Billy. Billy Hargrove. You live on 4819 Cherry Lane. Billy, please, I'm Max, I'm your-- _

A vicious slap across her face. Someone's hand had hit her. _ His _hand. As he pressed forward, dispatching the boy and shoving Eleven into the wall, a little voice screamed deep within the caverns of his mind. 

_ LetmeoutletmeoutOHGODPLEASELETMEOUT, I don't want this, I NEVER wanted this, oh god fucking PLEASE-- _

"Billy!"

He flipped his lighter shut, and it felt as loud as a door slamming in an empty stairwell. He blinked hard, eyes refocusing.

Eleven was peering in his face. He stared back at her, confused. Wait. Hadn't he just slung her over his shoulder?

Then he remembered, and his environs changed from white to gold. He was sitting at Hopper's kitchen table. The wind was rattling the windows, the television buzzing with static.

"It's time," Eleven said.

_ What? _So soon? 

Glancing down the hallway, Billy saw the light in Hopper's room was off. His eyebrows knotted, and he checked his watch. 

10:44.

_ The fuck? _What was he doing that whole time?

"Billy? Are you okay?"

He looked up. Eleven had backed off, but she was still hovering by the table, her wide brown eyes watching him with concern. He looked away and shook his head.

"I'm fine." He stood up and shoved his lighter in his pocket. "So, uh. What do we do?"

"I set it up already. You just watch."

Billy glanced past her at the television. He noticed an odd arrangement of items on the floor: a neon green scrunchie, a black scarf, and a box of tissues. The scrunchie seemed familiar. Then again, didn't all scrunchies look the same?

Before he could ask questions, El turned and walked to her little arrangement of items. Sitting comfortably on the carpet, she looked at the television and took a deep, shaky breath, as if to fortify herself. She grabbed the scarf, tied it in a blindfold around her head, and picked up the scrunchie. She folded it into her left hand, squeezing it like a good luck charm.

Then she went still. In front of her, the television hissed with never-ending static, painting her face in a dim, crackling white.

Billy wandered closer, staring dumbly at her. He remembered the form of a teenage girl flickering on the edge of existence in the steel mill. Remembered that same girl materializing in his room, taking his hand and whispering, _ I want to see. _

So _ this… _ was how she did it?

Part of him wanted to scoff. This whole thing was weird. Fuckin' weird. The rest of him remained deadly serious and, if he was honest with himself, fascinated. 

He couldn't laugh at this or brush it off, not anymore. Not when she was doing this to help him.

For the next few minutes, the room was quiet except for the hiss of static. Arms folded, Billy leaned back against the kitchen counter as he watched her. The whole time, she barely moved. Occasionally she'd scratch her nose; other times, she huffed and adjusted her posture. Overall, though, he felt like he was watching a yogi trying to achieve a deep, meditative state. 

Emphasis on "trying." As the minutes bled by, she huffed more and more. Soon she started twisting the scrunchie in her hands. Tension built in the room - a loud, anxious energy that set Billy's teeth on edge, made him dig his nails into his arms.

Suddenly she ripped the blindfold off. Her face was flushed, and she was breathing hard.

"I can't find it," she said. Her voice was strained, like she could burst out crying at any second.

Billy pushed off the counter. "What?" Fuck, he didn't want to deal with a weeping teenage girl, not now.

"The door. The door to the in-between place. Papa told me to see it as a door-- he said I have to be calm, and I _ am _ calm, but I can't-- I _ can't--_"

"Whoa, whoa, hey." Billy found himself kneeling beside her. "Just breathe. Alright? You'll get there. You just gotta be patient."

_ That's rich coming from you. _

El looked up at him, a sheen of tears in her eyes. It made his chest constrict, and he couldn't help but put a hand on her shoulder. 

"Just… just try again. Okay?" 

When she smiled, he realized he'd spoken _ way _ too gently. Spooked, he jumped up and backed away, but she didn't seem to notice his hurry. Turning back to the television, she blew out a breath and tied on the blindfold again.

Billy retreated to the counter, leaning against it like before. His hand flexed of its own accord, as if unable to process. 

_Wow, _said an inner voice._ You touched someone without hitting them._

_Fuck you,_ _I'm not a _total_ monster, _he thought.

_ Oh really? Tell that to Heather. Or Heather's parents. Or Steve Harrington. Or-- _

_ Shut up! _He balled his hands into fists. This wasn't the time for that shit.

Again, all went quiet in the room. Again, the minutes ticked by as Eleven sat perfectly still, scarcely breathing. Billy watched her even harder now, willing her to succeed. He had no idea what this so-called "door" looked like, or what the hell she meant by an "in-between place," but if some positive energy would help her find it, he wasn't averse to giving it.

After a full twenty minutes, El removed the blindfold. Billy pushed off the counter, nerves stretched so tight they could snap.

"Did you see her?" he asked. She'd been so quiet. That meant she _ had _ to have gotten through the door this time. Right?

She turned slowly to face him. Her nose was bleeding, her cheeks streaked with tears.

_ Fuck. _ His heart sank. In its place, anger skyrocketed. _ FUCK! _

"I can't," she whispered. "I'm… I'm sorry, Billy. I tried."

He thought of his father. He thought of Max getting backhanded across the face. And then his thoughts dissolved into an endless stream of curse words. Heat ravaged his body, and he couldn't breathe. He looked down at the floor, eyes darting back and forth, feeling like he could tear his own skin to pieces. 

A holdout inside him - his last bit of sanity - told him he needed to leave before he said something he'd regret. So he turned on his heel and walked to the back door. As soon as he pushed through, the cold night air hit him like a wall - no, like a pool in the middle of summer, enveloping his body, bringing his temperature down. He stomped across the deck and grabbed the railing. Leaning over it, he took slow, deep breaths. 

_ It's not her fault, _ he told himself. _ Not her fault, not her fault, not her fault. _

_ No… it's yours. _

The familiar voice slid in like a knife between the ribs. He looked up, breath hitching. It was the voice from yesterday, the one that had called Will Byers his brother.

The sentiment it was expressing was hardly new. Still, he found himself asking, _W...what? _

_ You fell apart after Starcourt. If you hadn't, you'd still be there. Now she's suffering, but she won't tell you because she knows how pathetic and weak you are. _

Billy blinked. An ache bloomed inside him, like an old wound opening anew.

_ You can still turn things around, _ the voice whispered. _ Go to your father. Beg him to take you back. Then you'll be with her again, and you can make sure no one touches her. _

A shiver passed through Billy's body. He stared into the darkness, half-expecting to see a tentacled shadow taking shape there.

_ I... I can't. _ He grit his teeth. _ That house is hell. _

_ Don't you love her? _ the voice asked. It sounded soft. Solemn.

Billy's throat closed up. He couldn't say it, even in his mind. But he didn't need to.

_ Then go to her, _ answered the voice_. Protect _ her _ for once. _

After that, the voice left. It had made its point.

Billy stayed at the railing, his entire body trembling, for what felt like ages. By the time he shuffled back inside, exhausted and numb, Eleven had vacated the living room. The TV was off, and all her little ritualistic items were gone. Billy glanced down the hallway. Though her bedroom door was shut, in the midnight quiet, he could hear her crying.

His gaze softened, and his eyes burned. For a split second, he thought about going to her door and knocking. But the empty space that came after that - the question of what he would even do or say - stopped him. 

Fuck, who did he think he was, anyway? Had he forgotten already? A few weeks and some change didn't erase the fact that he'd tried to strangle her to death, had slammed her head into walls, had offered her up as a sacrifice.

Monsters didn't good caretakers make.

Defeated, he padded to the bathroom, hoping she didn't hear him pass her door, but knowing she absolutely did. He brushed his teeth, padded back to the living room, turned off the lights, and fell onto the couch.

He slept the sleep of the dead that night.


	9. A Deal's A Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleven has an idea, and Billy takes her on a little adventure.

He woke to the loud, angry sound of the kitchen phone ringing.

His face was buried in the pillow, his limbs strewn over the couch. When the ringing started, smashing like bricks into his ears, he flinched and grunted. Eyes opening blearily, he pushed up on his elbows and glared daggers at the phone. When it rang again, a growl tore out of his throat.

"Fucking _ phone_!" He snatched a shoe off the floor and threw it. It hit the wall, missing the phone by less than an inch, and nearly hit Hopper as he emerged from the hallway.

"Hey, watch it!" Hopper yelled. Billy glared daggers at him too, then flipped onto his back and covered his head with the pillow.

Who… the _ fuck… _calls at six in the morning? Fucking no one, that's who. Unless they're concerned older brothers - then they get a pass.

As Hopper talked to whatever moron had seen fit to shatter the peace, Billy didn't bother listening. He knew he'd just get angrier, and he could feel the heat radiating off his skin already. This was, after all, the worst way to wake up, and that meant the day was probably ruined. The whole day. Because of some asshole.

Soon Hopper hung up, and he walked into the living room.

"That was Merrill," he said.

Billy's eyes flew open. Pulling the pillow off his head, he looked over to see Hopper in full uniform, hat in hand. Damn, so he'd already eaten breakfast, and Billy never heard? Jesus.

Hopper gestured with his hat. "Guess you got lucky. No work today on account of rain."

_ Rain_? Billy glanced up at the ceiling and stilled his thoughts enough to listen. For the first time, he recognized the patter of rain on the roof. It wasn't that loud, though, and he frowned.

"Doesn't sound that bad," he grumbled. 

Wait, why was he arguing _ in favor _ of work?

"It'll get worse." 

Hopper gripped the brim of his hat, staring hard at Billy. Billy stared back. Fuck, what was the matter with him? The fucking phone hadn't interrupted _ his _sleep.

Then it dawned on him, and he went completely still, like a mouse in the sightline of a snake.

No work. That meant Billy had nowhere to go. Which meant he would stay here with Eleven all day. Without Hopper.

Alone.

Swallowing, Billy watched Hopper turn his hat in his hands, fingers edging along the brim. He watched as Hopper dissected him with his gaze, weighing his options, playing out the worst-case scenarios.

Eventually, he seemed to let go of them all. His grip on his hat relaxed, and he glanced off to the side, breaking the sightline. He put his hat on his head, then studied Billy with something akin to… embarrassment? Yeah. Embarrassment. The kind you couldn't hide but would never admit to.

"El, uh... will be up by nine, probably. If you need more sleep after that, you can, uh... use my room. If you want."

Billy stayed frozen, watching the chief. He wasn't out of danger yet, not until Hopper walked out that door and drove away. 

Hopper cleared his throat. "If she, uh… if she bothers you, tell her to go to her room and do her schoolwork. She's supposed to do two math lessons today. She's behind."

_ O...kay. _Play schoolmarm to the fourteen-year-old. Sure.

When Billy gave no response, Hopper scratched his chin. "Um, yeah. Good talk." Backing away, he went to the front door, where he grabbed his raincoat off the rack. As he shrugged into it, he seemed to remember something and stopped. He turned to glance at the fridge, then at Billy, then at the fridge. Whatever he saw made his expression harden. Walking into the kitchen, he opened the fridge and pulled out the entire six pack of Schlitz. He looked over at Billy and held it up.

"I'll do you a favor," he drawled. 

And with that, he carried the six pack right out the door.

_ Fuck. Me. _

As Hopper locked up behind him, Billy stared slack-jawed at the door, not sure whether to feel offended or grateful. He hadn't even thought about the beer in the fridge, not since the first night he slept here. But yeah, he definitely would've remembered today, as soon as he was awake enough to start losing his mind from boredom.

Well, it didn't matter anymore. For better or worse, Hopper had closed off that avenue of transgression.

Growling softly to himself, Billy shoved the pillow under his head and glared at the drab white ceiling. It was even more drab than usual thanks to the weak gray light of a rainy dawn. And if Hopper was to be believed, it would stay like this all fucking day until night put it out of its misery.

Billy rolled onto his side, facing the back of the couch. He stared at the hideous floral print only two inches from his nose. The longer he stared, the more the centers of the flowers looked like eyes staring back. Finally he closed his to shut them out.

At least sleep could put _ him _ out of _ his _ misery.

\--

The gray dawn had brightened to a gray mid-morning by the time a gentle rustling in the kitchen made him stir. It was the sound of a cereal bag opening, so distinctive it was unmistakable. 

Eleven had emerged for breakfast. 

Lifting his head, Billy craned his neck for a bleary-eyed look. El had her back to the living room, but even from here, he could tell she'd had a bad night. Her hair was unbrushed, and as she poured cereal into a bowl, her flannel-clad shoulders sagged.

Turning back around, Billy checked his watch. 11AM - way later than Hopper had said. His gut twisted, and he let his wrist fall.

_ Your fault. _

He lay quietly on the couch, listening to the clinking of her spoon as she ate. Tension filled the air, not as frantic as last night's, but deeper and more raw. She knew he was awake; he could sense it. But she wasn't talking, not even to say good morning. Maybe she was still torn up about last night's failure. _ Or_, Billy thought with a dry mouth, she'd realized how unfair he'd been to her. He'd pushed her to the edge of her insecurities, made her try her powers again, then gotten mad when she couldn't follow through. As if losing her powers had been _ her _ choice_. _

So he lay there, silent and awkward, wishing he could sink so deep into the couch no one would find him.

Just as sleep descended on him again, making him feel like he really was sinking, she spoke up from close beside him.

"Billy?"

He jerked awake. A quick glance confirmed she was hovering right over him, wide, brown eyes fixed on his face. Panic shot through him, and he nearly scrambled off the couch. He reined in the impulse - barely - and instead pushed himself up on his elbows. 

"Yeah?" he asked.

She looked even more tired from the front. Rings darkened the skin under her eyes, and she seemed pale. It reminded him of the afternoon he came here, and he tried not to wince. _ My fault. _

"I have an idea," she said, voice cracking.

\--

"It won't work."

They were sitting at the table now. He was eating a bowl of Cheerios - sawdust-flavored, yum - and she was sitting across from him, watching.

"Why not?"

Billy looked up at her, brows falling flat. Jesus, was she really this dense?

"Lucas Sinclair is not gonna talk to me. Alright? In case you haven't heard, I tried to beat his face in a year ago."

He dug into his cereal. "And as for the rest of your friends, forget it. They all saw what I, uh... what I did to you. Back in the summer."

His throat spasmed. It was hard to even mention.

"But that was the Mind Flayer. Not you."

He looked at her again, this time with an edge of heartbreak. Holy fuck, this girl. So innocent. So _ naive._ How the hell did someone like her end up with the power to crush people's skulls with her mind?

"It won't work," he reiterated simply. Turning back to his cereal, he tucked a spoonful in his mouth.

She pressed on. "They'll be at the arcade this afternoon. They always go on Fridays. You can bring me with you."

Oh god. The two of them on a mission. "Not fucking happening."

"But I'm their friend. If I'm with you, maybe--"

"Hey." He pinned her with a glare. She shut her mouth, eyes wide.

"Let's get one thing straight. Just because I asked you for a favor doesn't mean I'm gonna jet all over town with you. You gave it a shot. Now you're done. Do you understand?"

Fuck, he sounded like Hopper. Or his dad. He shut that thought down before it could register as a feeling.

She blinked at him, shocked. Her gaze fell to the table, and he watched shock give way to disappointment, disappointment give way to smoldering anger. Her jaw grew hard, her posture rigid. Soon she got up, stomped to her room, and slammed the door.

Guilt wormed its way into his chest, but he squashed it immediately. "Fuck," he muttered, and went back to eating his cereal.

He was _ not _letting her get more involved, not in a million years. And that was the end of it.

\--

He spent the next three hours smoking, doing an excessive number of push-ups, and watching stupid shit on TV. Eleven never left her room, not even for a drink or a snack. It almost made him feel bad. Almost.

But goddammit, what else was he supposed to do? 

He scowled at the question as he did sit-ups by the couch, feet hooked under its frame. Each time he lifted his body, he blew out a breath and thought of a new reason not to take her up on her offer.

He'd already hurt her enough.

Her friends hated him.

Max was her friend, and it'd traumatize El to see her abused.

El would be with him too much.

Hopper would be furious.

And yet, when he pictured the alternative, his sit-ups slowed until they stopped altogether. He sat in front of the couch, panting, staring blankly at the floral print.

_ Beg him to take you back, _ the voice had said. _ Protect _ her _ for once. _On the surface it sounded so reasonable. Inevitable. But when he thought about actually doing it - about crawling back to his father and letting him lay hands on him again - his stomach lurched. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. 

_ Don't vomit, _ he thought, _ you fucking pussy. _

It was selfish of him, right? Extremely selfish. On par with terrorizing Max's boyfriend or running down her other friends with his car. 

So why didn't it feel that way?

A fire gnawed at his insides. He threw himself into his sit-ups, working up a sweat, then got in the shower and tortured his skin with scalding hot water. He hoped to burn out the uncertainty and fear, to emerge from the shower with a new, hard resolve. 

The opposite happened. By the time he turned off the water, he couldn't take it anymore. Cursing to himself, he got out and got dressed. Then he went to her door, took a deep breath, and knocked.

She opened it a crack. Her expression was flat. Angry.

He didn't meet her eyes. He stared down at the floor, the submissive posture alien to him. 

"What are the chances Max'll be at the arcade with them?" he asked quietly. Max used to go all the time, but now that she was running around with friends, he didn't know her habits as well.

El shrugged. He couldn't tell if she was saying "I don't know" or if she was refusing to cooperate.

Billy sighed and propped his hands on the doorframe. He worked his tongue in his mouth, thinking.

"Alright. How about this. There's that, uh… that video store by the arcade. We go early. You pick out a movie. And then, if they show up and Max is with them, you distract her for me. Sound good?"

She studied him. "You really don't want her to know, do you?"

He looked up at her. Held her gaze. "No."

She inclined her head, considering his offer. A devious glint entered her eyes, and he shifted uneasily on his feet. A counteroffer was coming.

"We'll have to be home by 5."

"Easy enough."

"And I want ice cream."

He frowned. "It's cold outside."

"I. Want. Ice cream."

He stared at her a beat, then shook his head. "Alright. Fine. We'll stop at a convenience store or something." 

It was all he needed to say. With a barely restrained grin, she shut the door, presumably to get dressed.

Billy turned away. Sighing from the very depths of his being, he rubbed his face with both hands. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice hissed.

\--

She wore a red jacket out in the rain. 

Billy was waiting in the car when she came out of the trailer. The instant he saw the jacket, his heart slammed into his chest. Suddenly he was back in Heather's house, staring down El for the first time, as the shadow growled its hatred in his ears.

_ "I'm sorry, I did not quite catch your name." _

She turned to him with eyes that saw too much. _ "El." _

As his tongue wrapped around the syllable, he heard another, deeper voice speak it alongside him. _ "El." _

Then she opened the passenger door, and he was back in his Camaro. The voice was gone. In its place, rain drummed against the roof of the car. Blinking hard, he turned to the dash and cranked the engine. 

Fuck, it was just a jacket. For fuck's sake.

\--

They listened to heavy metal on the way. Metallica, mostly, with some Ratt thrown in. El hadn't heard any of it before, but she liked it. He could tell by the way she kept smiling and sneaking wide-eyed looks at him. Soon she even started rocking her head to the beat, glancing at him occasionally as if to gauge his approval. He clenched his jaw and gripped the steering wheel tightly, ignoring her like his life depended on it. 

But damn, she was cute. Too cute. 

They reached the arcade with, in his opinion, not a minute to spare. Shooting past it, he parked behind an abandoned building where his Camaro wouldn't be seen from the road. The kids would recognize his car immediately. If they saw it here, he had no doubt they'd turn tail and run.

The rain was coming down harder now, just like Hopper had said. Thankfully, it was warmer today, so the rain wasn't freezing cold. Sticking his hands in his pockets, Billy led El to the video store, his jean jacket quickly getting soaked.

He pushed through the front door and held it open for her. As soon as she was through, he walked forward into the store, shoulders squared and head held high. Shoving his wet hair out of his eyes, he glanced around.

A tall, weird-looking dude was helping a customer at the counter. He looked at Billy, then did a double take, expression souring. Oh great, he was gonna say something. 

Averting his gaze, Billy wandered casually toward the shelves on his left. But it was too late. 

"Hey you! Don't drip_ water _ all over my _ floor._"

Billy stopped and turned with a fake smile. He spread his arms to show how wet his clothes were. "Water's all I got, dipshit."

The guy shook his head in disgust. Billy turned back around and led a giggling El deeper into the shelves.

"Fucking mouthbreather," Billy muttered.

"Yeah. Mouthbreather."

He almost looked back, but caught himself. Fuck, so he was gonna have an echo now. Wonderful.

Together they combed through the cassettes on display. Billy picked up one movie after another, utterly lost but trying not to show it. He'd never even been here before. He wasn't really a movie guy; he'd never had the patience to sit for that long. Before the events of the summer, he'd spent all his spare time working out, listening to music, and sleeping his way through Hawkins. No movies, unless a particularly hot chick wanted to have one playing in the background while they fucked.

Add Eleven's presence to this equation, and he was even more lost. What movies were appropriate for a fourteen-year-old girl? _ Beverly Hills Cop_? _ Children of the Corn_? _ The Terminator_? He had no fucking clue.

As he pulled a cassette from the shelf and secretly checked the rating, a voice piped up to his right.

"Hargrove?"

He whirled to look. There, in all his fluffy-haired glory, stood one of the last people Billy had ever wanted to see again, a Family Video nametag on his polo shirt.

_ God fucking dammit. _ Billy's entire body tensed, and he drew himself up to his full height. "Steve Harrington." He huffed a laugh. "Long time no see, amigo."

Smoothly, he put the cassette in his hand back on the shelf. He might need both fists in a minute.

Harrington glared at him, a muscle twitching in his jaw. Just as he opened his mouth to talk, Eleven popped out from behind Billy. Harrington's eyes bugged. "Wha--? Uhhhh. Eleven? I, uh… what…" He cleared his throat and gestured between them. "What are _ you _ two doing here?" 

His unspoken question: _ What are you two doing here _together?

El didn't hear the unspoken question, innocent as she was. "We're picking out a movie," she answered, eyes bright.

"Oh." Harrington raised his eyebrows. "That's… awesome. Well, uh, you came to the right place. Yep. We got movies. So, so many movies.

"Hey, uh, listen." Folding his arms, he looked straight at El. "Does your dad know you're here?"

To Billy, the insinuation was clear. His nostrils flared, and a cold, dark anger swelled inside his ribcage. El said nothing. Billy guessed she was grinning like an imp, which didn't help his case at all.

"He knows she's with me," he said flatly, stepping into Harrington's line of sight. They locked eyes, and Billy narrowed his_. Even _ I've _ got my limits, Harrington. Fuck you. _

Now it was Harrington's turn to draw himself up. He put both hands on his hips. "Soooo, the three of you are just buddies now," he said, as if offended that Billy thought he was so gullible.

"He's living with us," El volunteered.

If Harrington raised his eyebrows any higher, they'd disappear into his hairline._ "Oh._" He looked from El to Billy, a new question in his eyes. _ What the hell happened to you? _

Billy shrugged. "Temporary arrangement." Beyond that, he wouldn't give Harrington the satisfaction. Let him wonder till he died; it wasn't his fucking business anyway.

Harrington stared at him. Billy could practically hear him wondering how far to trust the chief. Hopper was very protective of Eleven, that much was true. But to welcome Billy Hargrove into their home? Even temporarily? That was… unexpected.

"Okay." Harrington blinked, apparently deciding to trust Hopper. "Well, uh… you know… if you need any help finding a movie, you just, uh… you just let me know. I'm here. Here to help."

"Thanks," Billy answered, voice dripping with sarcasm. He turned and swaggered down the aisle, Eleven trailing close behind. He made sure his walk screamed one thing, and one thing only: _ Fuck. Off. _

After that, he was so distracted he couldn't even see the movies in front of him. He browsed through them listlessly, sometimes putting one back only to pick it up again. When he wasn't trying - and failing - to read the descriptions on the boxes, he watched Harrington, who pretended to work on the other side of the store. Occasionally their eyes met across the rows of cassettes, and it was all Billy could do to keep from sneering. _ Fuck you, asshole. Fuck. You. _

He tried not to think about last Halloween. About losing all control. About smashing a plate on Harrington's head and punching him until his eyes swelled up like grapefruits. That was _ not _ relevant right now. Not relevant at all.

Suddenly El stuck a movie in his face. He jumped, scowled at how easily she'd startled him, then read the text._ The Muppets Take Manhattan. _

"You want this one?"

She nodded, beaming.

Great. One of the most boring movies she could've picked. He almost rolled his eyes, but took the cassette from her instead. "Alright. Deal's a deal."

He walked with her to the counter. The mouthbreather was still manning the register, which was delightful enough on its own. Then, as Billy paid for the rental, Harrington sidled up beside the mouthbreather. He put one hand on the counter and the other on his hip, looking anything but casual.

"So, El. How's, uh, how's Mike?"

"Fine." A slight crinkle in her forehead said, _ Why do _ you _ want to know? _

"Cool, cool. How about Lucas? And, uh, Dustin?"

"You see Dustin all the time."

Harrington paused, but only for a second. "Well, yeah, I know. I was just wondering how _ you _thought he was doing. Because, you know, he's like a brother to me. And… I care. So... yeah."

El stared at him without answering. If this fazed Harrington, he didn't show it. "Nothing? Okay. That's fine. Just doing my brotherly duty." 

His gaze flicked to Billy. Billy glared back with as much venom as he could muster, only to flinch when the mouthbreather shoved a plastic bag in his face.

"Have it back in five days," the mouthbreather said, "or else."

"Alright, alright," Billy snapped. "Jesus Christ."

He snatched the bag and led El away from the counter. Of course, Steve Harrington had to have the last word.

"Hey, great to see you, El," he called. "And remember, no R-rated movies!"

Billy growled under his breath. Seriously, fuck this place, fuck the mouthbreather, and fuck Harrington.

As he approached the front door, he checked his watch. Damn - not even 3PM. The kids wouldn't be here for a while yet. 

Well, no way was he gonna hang around _ this _dump. He put his hand on the door and glanced back at El. "Ice cream?"

Her grin was answer enough. Tamping down a smile of his own, he pushed the door open and led her out into the rain.


	10. The Masks We Wear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy and El go undercover at the arcade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know! TWO chapters in a week? WHAAAAAT??

By the time Billy and El got back to the arcade, it was around 3:30, and the rain had lightened to a drizzle. Billy had made her stand outside the convenience store while she ate her ice cream - hey, he never said she could eat in his car - and that had burned some extra minutes. Still, in case the kids were taking their sweet time getting here, he pulled into the lot behind the abandoned building. After parking, he turned off the engine and sat there, mind racing.

He'd gotten increasingly agitated since they left the video store. He needed to make a request of Eleven - nothing huge; anyone else would've done it by now. But for some reason it stuck in his craw and made him panic.

El sat quietly in the passenger seat, watching him. She'd felt his mounting anxiety on the way here. He knew because he'd sensed her concern mounting alongside it.

_ Strange, isn't it, being a cause of concern instead of fear. _

"Billy?"

He tapped his thumb on the steering wheel. Jesus, he was overthinking this. He just needed to come right out and say it.

"Hey." He sniffed and propped both hands on the wheel. "You know how you told Steve Harrington I was living with you?"

"Yes," she replied, but her confused tone said that was all she knew. Shifting in his seat, he chewed the inside of his mouth.

"I don't want you telling people that."

"Why?"

"Because…"

_ Did one of your little whores take you in? _

_ No, they didn't. _

_ Then where are you staying? _

He took a deep breath. "Because it isn't safe."

The words, so familiar to them both, soaked into the air between them like dye into fabric. He wondered what they would look like as a dye. Probably like an ink blot, he thought, swollen and black, that made a shape like a monster when you shook out the fabric.

El put a hand on his back. Jerked out of his reverie, he looked at her.

"I understand," she said softly. And he could tell she did. There was a deep knowing in her eyes - and beyond that, a welcoming warmth. In another reality where he didn't hiss at human contact, she was hugging him right now. He felt it in a flash as vivid as lightning.

Throat closing up, he nodded. Then he got out of the car, desperate to be in the open air, away from a warmth he'd suffocate in.

Though it was still raining, the day felt sunnier somehow. Leaving his door ajar, Billy stretched his back and looked at the arcade in the distance. The moment he saw it, in another flash - this one cracking like thunder - he saw Will Byers standing at an arcade machine, watching someone play. In the same instant, Will grabbed his neck and locked eyes with Billy.

It was over in a fraction of a second. Billy nearly lost his balance, but caught himself on the car just as El got out. Straightening up, he schooled his features into a mask. _ Please God, tell me she didn't see that. _

"They're here," he announced, casually shutting his door.

El looked at the arcade, then at him. "How do you know that?"

"I just do." 

She gave him a weird look, but he pretended not to see. Rubbing his face, he sighed. 

"Alright, kid. Let's do this."

They walked to the arcade side by side. Every few seconds, El stole a glance at him and smiled. He wondered what the fuck she was smiling at - did he have shit on his face or something? - until he realized he'd called her "kid." And _ not _ in a derogatory way.

Fuckin' god. He was batting a hundred today.

Outside the arcade, a bunch of kid's bikes huddled together in the bike rack. One of them was Max's. Billy hesitated, casting a significant look at El. 

Time for her to uphold her end of the deal.

The arcade welcomed them with a riot of color and noise, not as bad as a carnival, but distasteful all the same. Beneath it, Billy could hear a steady, high-pitched buzz like a speaker picking up feedback. Stopping near the doors, he scanned the room. As he looked toward his left, the buzz grew louder until he found the cause - and realized it was in his head.

In the aisle to his left, the kids were gathered around an arcade machine. The curly-haired kid who wore baseball caps - Devin? Dustin? - was in the center of the group, smashing buttons and shouting. The other kids were shouting with him, except for Will. He was standing on the far side of the group, hand on his neck, staring wide-eyed at Billy.

As soon as their gazes met, the buzz went away, because of course it did. Taking it in stride, Billy nodded. _ Hey. _

Will nodded back. _ Hi. _

Max stood near the center of the group, her attention absorbed by the game. Her hair was down, she was wearing her favorite hoodie, and when Dustin messed up, she burst out laughing.

Billy's jaw tightened. From here she looked… happy. Healthy. In reality, that didn't mean anything. She was good at wearing masks. He knew because he'd taught her how.

Will stepped into the group. "Hey guys?"

"_Piece of shiiiiit!" _ Dustin screamed, reaching a frazzled pitch Billy hadn't thought possible.

"Guys!"

The kids looked at Will, then followed his gaze to Billy and El. Just like that, they all froze. Even Dustin, his hands on the controls. The game beeped and booped before warbling a sad note, signaling his defeat.

A pit opened in Billy's stomach. _ Fuck, _he thought. This was a bad idea. A horrible idea.

For a few seconds, no one moved. It felt like one of the old westerns - hands hovering near gun holsters, trigger fingers twitching. If a tumbleweed had chosen that moment to bounce past, Billy wouldn't have batted an eye.

Then Max stepped forward, and another kid followed. _ Mike_, Billy remembered. Karen's kid. _ Shit, don't think about Karen-- _

"Billy," Max said. She was smiling, relieved to see him, and it was so alien he didn't know what to think. Without warning, she walked right up to him and hugged him. His brain shorted out, and it took him a second to remember, _ Oh yeah, you're supposed to hug people back when they hug you. _

As he put his arms around her, Mike went up to El. "What are you doing? Are you crazy?!"

Billy knew what he meant. Not just _ why are you out in public? _ but also _ why are you with Billy Hargrove? _

If El answered, he didn't hear it. At that moment, Max pulled out of their hug, and his attention focused completely on her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. She was smiling still, but confusion tainted the edges, like shadows creeping into sunlight.

Billy smirked. "Keeping a promise," he replied, jerking his chin at El as if to say, _ Blame her. _

He glanced over Max's head at the other kids. They were all staring at him. Lucas' pose screamed "cornered animal"; his arms were tense at his sides, the cords in his neck drawn tight. Dustin didn't seem to realize his mouth was hanging open. Will was the only one who didn't look scared - at least, no more than usual. He stared at Billy with the same _ knowing-too-much _ as Eleven, making Billy's innards squirm in a way that was becoming routine.

"You! Why are _ you _ with her?"

Billy flinched, looking at Mike. The boy was glaring at him, a thundercloud of rage crackling around his head.

"Why did you bring her here? Did the Mind Flayer tell you to?"

"Mike, stop it," Max said.

"Why are you so calm about this?" he cried, gesturing wildly. "He was possessed by _ the freaking Mind Flayer_. What, you think he's just gonna be 'good' again?"

"Shhhh," hissed Dustin, taking a step in their direction. They glanced around to find people staring at them, alarmed, no doubt, by the teenage boy's nonsensical ravings about a "_mind flayer_." Mike looked at the carpet and shuffled his feet, chastened by the popping of his rage balloon. 

It lasted only two seconds.

"Mike, it's okay," El said. "He--"

"No, it's not," he snapped. "None of this is remotely okay!"

"Mike." Max grabbed his arm and spun him to face her. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

Still gripping his arm, she dragged him away to another aisle. 

Billy let go of the breath he'd been holding. He shared a look with El, then turned his gaze to the kids huddled around the arcade machine. They were still staring at him. Tensing all over, he looked away, studying the nearest machine as if it held the answers to the universe.

Yep. _ Monster_. That's what they thought of him. He'd known that coming into this place. So why did it make his face sting, and why did he want to run so far away they'd forget what he even looked like?

Right as he was about to say _ fuck it _ and go outside, Will broke ranks. He walked up to Billy and El, hands in his pockets. "Hi."

"Hi," El said quietly. Billy looked at him askance, his mouth drier than sandpaper as he waited for the final blow. _ Yeah, you're a monster. And monsters like you don't belong here. _

Will returned his look just as timidly. Rubbing his arm, he stuttered, "S-sorry about that. He's just… protective."

_ Protective of her, _ he meant. Billy sighed, relaxing. "Yeah," he grumbled. _ Aren't we all. _

Will relaxed too. He even ventured a smile, small as it was. "So--" he glanced between Billy and El "--why _ are _ you here?"

Before Billy could even think of answering, El said, "He needs our help."

Billy coughed harshly. God damn this child and her mouth.

"Our… help?" Will's eyes, full of questions, turned to Billy.

Fuck. This was _ not _ how he'd wanted to introduce the topic. He'd hoped to do it in his own time and his own way, not at the whim of a teenager. 

However, as he studied Will - one of the only kids in the group who'd spoken to him with kindness - he made the snap decision to put a hand on El's shoulder. "Hey, uh. Why don't you go check on my sister? In case she needs backup."

"But--"

"Just do it." He looked at her with raised eyebrows. She looked back at him for a few seconds until, finally, she registered his intention. With an embarrassed half-smile, she nodded and left to do his bidding.

Stepping forward, he clapped a hand on Will's back. "Let's talk," he said, steering him toward the front door. 

Will glanced over his shoulder. Billy followed his eyes to the two boys still huddled around the arcade machine. Lucas was waving his arms frantically, mouthing _ abort! abort!_, while Dustin raised his hands in the universal gesture of disbelief. 

Will was a smart kid, though. He proved it by shrugging at them and letting Billy lead him outside.

They stood near the door, separated by a couple paces, as Billy lit a cigarette. He blew out smoke, eying Will from the side, well aware of how uncomfortable he was making him. Soon he looked at the sidewalk, giving the kid a break from his intense stare.

"El's right," he said. "I need your help."

"_My _ help?" 

"All of you. Except Max. She can't know I'm talking to you."

Will seemed to catch on. An earnest look flashed across his face. "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah."

Billy breathed in smoke and blew it out. He watched Will, trying to figure out how to best approach the issue.

Like he did in the car, he decided to just come out with it.

"I think my dad's hurting Max."

"Hurting her?" Will's eyes widened, and his voice cracked a little. "You mean like... like hitting her?"

"Yeah." Billy scuffed his boot on the concrete. "I can't ask, though. She'll never admit it."

"So you want _ us _ to ask her?"

"Oh, no. No no no. Ha. See, if you ask, she'll know it's coming from me. And then we're back to square one. Square zero, actually."

He gazed out at the road, smoking thoughtfully.

"No, I need you guys to spy on her for me. Listen closely if she ever says something about our dad. And watch for, uh… for bruises. On her arms. On her face." His mood darkened. "He's good at not leaving any, but sometimes he messes up."

He blew out more smoke. Watched it curl through the air.

"Anyway, you'll have to get creative. Play detective, or whatever it is you do. And make Lucas take point. He's her boyfriend, he'll see something if anyone does."

"O...okay."

An uneasy silence fell over them. In any other circumstance, Billy would've felt bad for laying something so heavy on a fourteen-year-old boy. But no, this was too important. Max's friends needed to know.

"How did you find out?" Will asked quietly.

He made her abuse sound like established fact. Billy's lips twitched. It was nice to be believed for once.

"I just had a feeling. Then my dad said something, and I just…" He shook his head. "I don't know, I just knew."

Silence again. Suddenly Billy realized the conversation had run its course. They could talk about other things now, if they wanted. The air grew heavy, swarming with questions they could ask each other, with points of commonality he would rather not dwell on.

Cracking his neck, he plucked his cigarette from his lips. "You should probably go back inside. Before Max sees you."

"Okay." 

"Tell the others. But be careful. And don't you dare breathe a word of it to her, do you hear me?"

"Okay."

Will turned to leave, but stopped. Billy's insides clenched. _ Don't. Just go away, go away, go a--_

"I think you're a good brother."

It was the punch in the gut he'd braced for. He glanced at Will, unable to hide his surprise. The boy gave him a shy smile. "For what it's worth," he added.

Then he walked inside, leaving Billy with a knot of writhing emotions, as well as the bone-deep certainty that Will Byers had never been more wrong about anything in his life.

\--

He was sitting on the curb, working on his third cigarette of the hour, when Max's voice rang out from behind him. 

"There you are! I was worried you left."

He looked over his shoulder. She had just pushed through the door, and she was walking toward him with a smile so bright it stunned him. He still wasn't used to this new normal. When had it even begun? He couldn't remember.

As she settled on the curb beside him, he dragged on his cigarette, then let his hand fall over his knee. _ Act natural, _ he told himself. _ Don't fucking blow it. _

"Hey, I'm… really sorry about all that. Mike can be a grade-A asshole. You should see how he treats Eleven sometimes."

Billy snorted. "What, is he her boyfriend?"

"Well, he was. Then she dumped him for being an asshole, so they're just really weird friends now."

Scoffing, Billy brought his cigarette up for another drag. Fucking kids - as if they knew how relationships worked.

"I guess you're hanging around her a lot. Now that you're living with her and all that."

He licked his bottom lip. "Yep." 

"It's really nice what you're doing for her."

"What?" 

"Taking her places. Bringing her to the arcade and stuff, _ without _ someone telling you to." Max smiled. "It's just really nice."

He shrugged, tapping ash off his cigarette. "Yeah, well, I got a debt to repay."

Cars zoomed by on the road. Billy's eyes followed them, his thoughts taking a dark turn. Yeah, he had a debt to repay. Quite a few. The question was if he'd ever succeed in repaying them.

"Hey, are you okay?"

_ Fuck. _"Yeah. Why?"

"You just look like something's bothering you."

He rolled his cigarette between his fingers and watched it burn. His other hand flexed, then tightened. Suddenly words came tumbling out.

"Jesus, I don't know, Max. Maybe I'm just not having much fun lately. That reason enough for you?"

He closed his eyes. Dammit, he shouldn't have said that. Not only was it mean, but at this rate, she'd never tell him about anything bad that happened to her, ever. 

Sighing, he reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fuck. Max, I'm--"

"No, it's okay. I get it."

_ Do you? _He dropped his hand and looked at her. She was studying him with eyes full of sympathy, and more than ever he wanted to ask her point blank what was going on. He even thought about grabbing her and yanking up the sleeves of her hoodie. She could be hiding anything under there.

But he knew better. Turning away, he took another hit of his cigarette.

"This whole thing - it's just been so stupid," Max mumbled.

"Yeah. It has." 

"I mean… dads are supposed to be there for you, right? Or is that a myth?"

He stared at the pavement. A cold, dead feeling spread through his body. "I wouldn't know."

"Yeah. I guess you wouldn't."

She went quiet after that. As he gazed at the pebbled texture of the asphalt, trying to think of something to say, a gust of wind blew smoke in his face. He coughed, waving it away.

"Hey, um. Billy?"

The way she said his name was strange. Fragile. He looked at her sharply. At some point, she'd turned her whole body toward him. Her face was solemn, and he could see a hint of pleading fear in her eyes.

His stomach flipped. Had he been wrong about her? Was she about to tell him after all?

"Yeah?" he asked, giving her his full attention. His fingers tightened on his cigarette.

She opened her mouth, took a breath, and stopped. Searched his face, considering. Then shutters fell over her eyes, and she put on a flippant, smirking, dimple-cheeked mask.

"I was wondering if I could ask you something. About boys."

His heart sank. _ Yeah, sure you were. _Grinding his teeth, he looked back toward the road.

"Alright. Shoot."

He pretended to listen after that. They even had some semblance of a conversation. But really, he was too distracted to care. His mask was just so heavy, and he was so fucking sick of it.


	11. Warmed By Her Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy has a really bad Friday night.

They left around 4:40. For the last forty minutes, Billy was tempted to walk into that arcade, grab Eleven by the ear, and drag her to the car so they could go home. Because seriously, this sucked. Sitting on the curb sucked, talking to his sister without _ really talking _sucked, and knowing the kids were arguing about him behind his back capital 's' Sucked. 

He could imagine it perfectly: Mike insisting "you don't know he's not possessed!"; Lucas jumping in to say, "um, hello, remember that time he nearly beat me to a pulp?"; Will, the sweet, sensitive one, calmly telling the others, "I think he's changed." Dustin? Well, Billy had no idea what Dustin would say. And as for Eleven…

An odd warmth flooded Billy's gut, and he swallowed thickly. Yeah. He knew what Eleven would say. For that reason alone, she deserved to stay at the arcade as long as she wanted.

So he held out, chain smoking on the curb, until the time came that they absolutely had to leave.

As he drove them home, tires hissing over wet roads, he kept his stereo turned down. Music felt like an ice pick to his brain right now. So much had happened in just the span of a few hours, and he needed space to think. He needed space to… to…

He blew out a breath, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. _ Fuck_. He wasn't sure what he needed.

His expression of overwhelm drew El's gaze. He sensed her studying him from the passenger seat, wondering what to say, if anything. For once, he didn't know the answer to that. He didn't know if he wanted her to keep quiet or if he actually wanted her to tell him everything. What the kids were saying about him. What she had said about him. What her experience with the Mind Flayer had been like. Whether she missed her mother as much as he missed his.

_ Jesus_, he thought, blinking. Where had that come from? Yeah, her mother was gone too. It didn't take a genius to figure that out. But could they steer clear of the subject, please?

Sucking quietly on his teeth, he glanced at the trees flying past his window. 

God fucking dammit. What was happening to him lately?

"Lucas said they'll start watching Max this weekend."

The moment El spoke, Billy forgot everything else. "Watching her?" he asked, turning to look at her. She met his look with wide eyes.

"Yeah. That's… what you wanted, isn't it?"

He turned back to the road. "Uh… yeah. Yeah, I asked them to spy on her for me."

Though maybe that hadn't been the best choice of words. Suddenly sweaty, his hands tightened on the steering wheel. He could see it now: a bunch of teenage boys in camo gear, watching Max's window through a shared pair of binocs - and getting far more than they'd bargained for.

Great. Did he just sic a gaggle of stalkers on his sister?

He closed his eyes. "Shit," he muttered.

El stared at him. "Are...you okay?"

"I don't know, El. I'm just not sure about this anymore. Do they even know what the fuck they're doing? How do I know they won't just invade her privacy? Or worse, get fucking caught?"

"They're pretty good at spying."

"Yeah. They're also a bunch of kids."

El had no answer for that. Looking out the window, he sucked his teeth again.

God. Think about something else. _ Anything _ else.

"So, uh…" He tapped restlessly on the steering wheel. "That, uh... Mike character. Max told me he's your boyfriend."

"Was," El corrected. Her eyeroll was so powerful he could feel it.

He smirked. "What'd he do to piss you off?"

"He lied."

_ And that's just the tip of the iceberg, _her tone implied. The hint of adolescent drama nearly made him grin. Relaxing in his seat, he brought a hand up to rub his lip. 

"Really? He lied to you?"

"Yes."

"That son of a bitch."

"Yeah. Son of a bitch."

He caught himself before he erupted in a cackle. Not just because he loved hearing her mutter obscenities, but also because he loved hearing her drag Mr. Self-Righteous, I-Know-Who-You-_Really_-Are Mike.

"So let me get this straight." He hooked a single wrist over the wheel. "You broke up, but you still see each other?"

"We're friends," she shrugged. 

"Friends." He chuckled. "Fuck, you're definitely a girl, aren't you."

She turned to him with the most comically baffled frown he'd ever seen from her. He couldn't help it - he laughed out loud, the sound ringing in the cab. 

When he looked at her a second later, her frown had melted into a surprised smile. He rolled his eyes. "What? So I can laugh. Big fucking deal."

Her smile grew warm. "It's nice."

_ Nice._ On the heels of Max saying the same thing, it struck him with greater force. Though he huffed skeptically at her, when he went back to rubbing his lip, it was at a slower, more thoughtful pace.

\--

They got back to the trailer with plenty of time to spare. Billy was able to change into his old clothes, grab a snack, crash on the couch, and watch a half hour of TV before Hopper barreled through the front door at 5:23, looking crazed. 

The chief stopped short when he saw Billy lying on the couch. Keeping one hand on the door, he craned his neck to peer into El's room. Whatever he saw must've mollified him, because with a sheepish glance at Billy, he took his hand off the door, turned to the coat rack, and removed his hat. 

_ Yeah, that's right. Eat shit, Hopper. _

"Oh. Sorry, chief. Were you expecting something?" Billy's voice lowered. "A little child molestation, maybe?"

Hopper hesitated while taking his coat off, but said nothing. Rolling his eyes, Billy looked back at the TV. _ Goddamn prick. _

El came out of her room then. She waited for her dad to hang his coat up, then went to him for a hug. He obliged with a smile, planting a kiss in her hair. "Hey, kiddo. How was your day?"

Billy grit his teeth. For fuck's sake. Did they really have to do that in front of him?

For the next couple minutes, he tried - and failed - not to listen in on their murmured conversation. Mostly it was Hopper quizzing El on her schoolwork, what she ate, and whether Billy had made her feel unsafe in any way. In response, El lied effortlessly through her teeth, spinning tales of math problems, carrot sticks, and sullen eighteen-year-olds who barely breathed a word to her all day.

Billy raised his eyebrows. Damn. He clearly didn't give her enough credit for this shit.

By the end of it, Hopper was so pleased it made the room feel downright sunny. Breaking away from El, he walked up to Billy with a spring in his step. Billy sighed to himself and adjusted his position on the couch. 

"Hey, uh…" Hopper paused, scratching his ear. "I was, uh… thinking of ordering a pizza. Does that sound like something you'd be interested in?"

Billy cast a lazy look at him. Stared, as if weighing his options.

"Sure," he said, turning to the TV again.

"Cheese and pepperoni?"

"Sure. What the fuck ever."

An angry shadow passed over Hopper's face, but Billy ignored it. Let him feel snubbed or offended or whatever it was he felt. He didn't get to treat Billy like a predator, then apologize with a fucking pizza.

Hopper backed away. His eyes were distant and cold. "Alright. Sure. I'll make the call."

_ Whoop de fucking doo. _ Sniffing loudly enough to be heard, Billy grabbed the remote and turned up the volume on the TV.

\--

He kept his distance from Hopper and El after that. When the pizza came, he ate his on the back deck. Then he went around front and, somehow, managed to kill a few hours smoking and listening to music in his car. 

That was one of the weirdest things about life now. Some days, time would crawl by like it'd been mauled and was dragging two bloody stumps behind it. Other days it skipped like a broken record, and Billy would find himself on the far side of an afternoon with no idea how he got there.

Tonight, time crawled, then skipped, then crawled.

At one point, he played with the idea of going out. It was Friday night, after all, and in the old days he always spent Friday nights on the prowl. Maybe he could pay a visit to one of his "little whores," as his dad called them. But when he thought of venturing into town alone, in a car so recognizable it might as well be painted neon, his forehead broke out in a sweat.

Neil Hargrove was out there. And he was prowling too.

Eventually, when Billy was ready to kill himself from frustration - just crack his skull against the dash and end it all - El came out onto the front porch. Puffing on a cigarette, he opened his car door in a gesture of welcome, but didn't move. She descended the steps and approached him, walking across the gravel in bare feet.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi."

"Do you want to watch Miami Vice?"

_ Miami Vice. _ He checked his watch. 9:55.

"It's really fun," she added.

He dropped his wrist, thought of being in the same room as Hopper for an hour, and frowned. "Eh. I don't know, kid."

"Please?"

Working his jaw back and forth, he looked at her. Her eyes were wide and pleading, and she was rocking a little on her toes.

Wow. She wanted it that bad, huh?

He scowled. Dragged on his cig one last time. Then he chucked it on the gravel and switched off his stereo.

"Fine," he grumbled, getting out of the car. "But I won't know shit about it."

"That's okay, I can tell you." Though she stayed calm on the outside, as he shut the car door, her energy was practically dancing in circles around him. It made his head spin, and again, an odd warmth flooded his gut.

Why she liked him so much, he would never fucking know.

\--

Just like he expected, being in the same room as Hopper was awkward as hell.

They sat on either end of the couch with El between them. Hopper had one arm thrown over the couch behind her - a subtler gesture than crushing her protectively to his side, but a protective gesture all the same. Like a douche, he crunched loudly on potato chips, drowning out the television at times.

He also drank beer.

_ Beer_. He must've brought the six-pack home. As Billy lounged in his seat, trying to look apathetic, he kept sneaking glances at the can in Hopper's hand. He could smell the tangy aroma from here, and it made his heartbeat pulse in his ears.

Fuck, what he wouldn't give for one. Just one.

Meanwhile, El sat up straight, oblivious to the drama around her. More importantly, she did as she'd promised: she told Billy things. Who this character was, what their relationship to that character was, and a plethora of other factoids he didn't give a shit about. At first, he dug his fingers into the arm of the couch, wishing she would stop. Oh god please _stop_.

But as the hour wore on, his grip on the couch eased. Inside him, he felt a weird sensation like a giant knot loosening, or a coiled rope unwinding slowly, so slowly.

She was _ beaming._ He'd never seen anything like it. Every time she glanced at him, a smile teased the corners of her mouth, and her eyes sparkled like Christmas lights. Hell, they sparkled even when she wasn't looking at him. He could see it from the side.

He'd made her day by sitting here. Maybe her entire week. 

Warmed by her sunshine, Hopper seemed to loosen up too. His arm on the couch grew more and more relaxed, his chugging of the beer slower and more pleasant. Eventually he set aside the potato chips and let the TV absorb his attention. It was like Billy wasn't even there - or his presence was normal.

Normal.

_ Is this what family feels like? _ a little voice wondered. Billy chewed his lip, blinking against a sudden stinging in his eyes.

_ I wouldn't know, _ he'd told Max. And he told the little voice the same thing. 

_ I wouldn't know. _

"Billy?"

He glanced at El. She was watching him, the side of her face glowing white from the television.

"I'm fine," he mumbled. On the other side of her, Hopper shifted in his seat, and Billy knew he was listening.

_ Yeah. _ Billy looked back at the television, his hands balling into fists. _ I'm fine. _

\--

When the show ended, Hopper was the first to get up. Quietly, he cleared away the beer cans and potato chips, then approached the couch where Billy and El were sitting. They stared up at him, side by side. He stared back at them, hands on his hips.

"I'm, uh… gonna head to bed," he said. He studied El a moment, then turned his gaze to Billy. His expression was hard to read. Wary? Apologetic? Some combination of the above?

Billy kept his own expression neutral. The less of a reaction he gave, the more quickly Hopper would leave. And he needed him to just fucking leave.

Finally, the chief gave in. He glanced at Eleven and said, "Well… g'night." He turned to walk away, only to stop and turn back. "Hey, uh - Billy. Looks like it'll be clear tomorrow, so I want us to get started on that roof, yeah?"

Billy groaned inwardly. _ Fuckin' roof. _ "Yeah. Sure."

"Cool." With a lingering stare, Hopper turned away for the last time. "Okay. G'night."

"Good night," El said.

And just like that, they were alone in the living room. Just him and Eleven.

_ Fuck_.

The television murmured in the background; somewhere, a clock ticked. Then a sudden gust of wind rattled the windows, and Billy remembered sitting at the table last night, flicking his lighter open and closed as he thought of his sister, of backhanding her across the face. He remembered blinking out of it to find Eleven standing there, watching him with concern, as she had so many times since then.

Swallowing, he stared blankly at the television. His fingers picked at a loose thread on the couch. A panicked creature in his chest begged him to run for it, to jump up _ right now _ and bolt for the door before she could catch him.

But he didn't. Somewhere inside him, in a core of truth he couldn't deny, he knew he'd already been caught.

"What are you thinking?"

Her voice was soft. Kind. He shook his head, still staring at the television.

"Just… stupid shit," he muttered. God, his eyes were burning. Why did they keep burning?

"Billy."

She put a hand on his arm. Against his will, he looked at it. Her fingers were so thin and delicate, her hands so small compared to his. In a flash, he remembered them beating his chest as she cried, pleading with him in every language but words to_ please _let her go, _please_ let her live.

"Friends don't lie," she said quietly.

He rubbed his eyes. His leg bounced at a furious pace, and suddenly he felt like he'd snorted a line of cocaine. He couldn't stop shaking, and every time he tried to gather his thoughts, they scattered like billiard balls.

"What is this?" he croaked. Before he knew it, he was looking at her - right in the eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

She frowned. "Doing what?"

"Oh, come on. You think I haven't noticed? You treat me like some fucking rock star, or a superhero, or… something. Well, guess what, I'm not any of that. So why don't you just tell me what you're really fucking doing."

"I'm… I'm not--"

"Not what?"

"I'm not… not doing anything."

"Like hell you're not." 

He leaned forward. Both hands dug into the couch now, holding on for dear life. 

"I nearly… fucking… _ killed _ you," he growled. "No one comes back from that. No one."

"But it wasn't you," she said. She was leaning back slightly, her body rigid, and he could see in her wide, wet eyes that he was scaring her, hurting her.

He couldn't stop.

A cackle bubbled out of his throat. "Wasn't me? Sweetheart, there's a reason he _ chose _ me. I--" he leaned in closer, and she shrank back "--have done things your innocent little mind would never comprehend. You think I'm a good person? Think I'm just misunderstood?"

He grabbed her by the wrist - hard. Her mouth fell open, and her face twisted in shock and pain.

"I'm. Not." 

She fought against his hold, but he just tightened his grip. So she went still, staring at him, her bottom lip trembling.

He thought about pushing it further - throwing her off the couch, maybe, so she'd scamper to her hidey-hole like the little mouse she was - but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Flinging her wrist at her, he settled back as she scrambled away from him, stricken.

The television murmured in the background. Somewhere, a clock ticked.

Tears welled in her eyes, rolling one by one down her cheeks. Cradling her wrist, she stood up slowly and walked toward the hallway. He glared at the television, face hot. His stomach churned like it wanted to throw up.

At the boundary between hallway and kitchen, she hesitated. Glancing back, she studied him with eyes so bright he couldn't look at them.

"You're wrong," she said.

Then she slipped into her room and quietly shut the door.

He sat on the couch, unmoving, for a long time. He didn't see the carpet, the golden light, or the wood paneling on the walls; he didn't hear the television, the clock, or the wind. All he saw was her face, and all he heard was her voice saying, again and again--

_ You're wrong. _

His fingers curled, stabbing into the couch like talons.

_ You're wrong. _

\--

That night, he dreamed he was back on that lonely road by the telephone booth. Red lightning cracked through the sky, and in the distance, a multitude of footsteps marched toward him. As they came nearer and the rumor of footsteps resolved into shadows, he screamed_, "What do you want?_" One stepped out of their ranks and approached him.

It was him. Yet not him.

"Who are you?" he asked, unable to breathe. 

"What you were meant to be," said Not-Him. Another voice rippled beneath his. Darker. Deeper. "You can't escape me, Billy. I will always be within you."

Billy's chest constricted, and he stumbled backward. "No," he cried. "I threw you out. I - I helped them kill you."

"I cannot be killed. I cannot be denied."

"Get… out," he panted. "_Get… out!_"

Not-Him laughed - a horrible, cackling sound like metal and ash - then, in a twist that froze Billy's blood, dislocated his jaw. It opened wider and wider, revealing a maw of pulsing gore and throbbing teeth.

He sprang for Billy's face. As Billy screamed, twisting his body away, he jerked awake on the couch, gasping for air.

He stared at the ceiling, trembling, until dawn banished the shadows.


	12. Submit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy and Hopper start work on the cabin roof, but something goes terribly wrong.

_ Billy. _

His body jolted at the familiar voice. _ Heather? _ His eyelids twitched, and he tried to open his mouth to speak, but something seemed to cover his lips, weighing them down.

_ Billy, _ she said, _ come find me. Take me to him. _

_ Billy, _ said another voice. _ Billy, it's not you, it's just... I have a family. And I can't do anything that will hurt them. You can understand that, right? _

_ Karen. _His brows knotted. No, he didn't understand. Why did no one see him? Was he just fucking invisible? A shape with no substance, so paper-thin that he disappeared when you turned him to one side?

_ Billy. _ A third voice, the most painful of all. _ I'm so sorry, baby, but I have to go. Mommy's sick, and she has to leave to get better. _

_ Mom. _ Agony lanced through him, sharp and burning. _ Mom, why did you never come back? Mom, why did you leave me with him? _

_ Billy, _ the voices whispered, one after the other. _ Billy. _Behind their whispers, seagulls cried overhead; waves lapped on the shore, and in the depths of an abandoned mill, a monster roared.

Then Billy's eyes fluttered open. Through the disintegrating haze of sleep, he saw a sea of brown carpet, and he remembered.

_ You think I'm a good person? Think I'm just misunderstood? _

_ I'm. Not. _

He lifted his head slowly. He was lying on his stomach on the couch, his arm dangling over the side. With a soul-deep groan, he pushed himself up and looked around. The room was so bright, it had to be mid-morning at least.

He shut his eyes. Brought a hand up to his head and grimaced.

"Fuck," he muttered. What happened to him last night? He felt like someone had whacked him in the skull with a two-by-four. Normally he'd suspect too much alcohol, but he hadn't touched a drop of it last night. He hadn't, right? Right.

As he nursed his aching head, the front door of the trailer opened with a loud squeak. Billy looked in its general direction, squinting against the light. He saw the blurred form of the chief enter the room, head bare, dressed in a tattered flannel and jeans.

Immediately, he remembered what they were supposed to do today. 

"Fuuuuuuuuck," he hissed, letting his head drop to the pillow.

Hopper heard him. "Well, well. Good morning to you too, princess."

"Fuck off."

"Don't start." Hopper shut the door with unnecessary force. "You should be _thanking_ me. I could've made you go into town with me this morning. Turns out I'm capable of mercy."

Billy scowled into his pillow and didn't answer. God, what was even the point? Hopper was a fucking stubborn son of a bitch. Words with him would just spin off into more words, and today, that was the last thing Billy wanted.

So he listened as Hopper opened the fridge, got out a carton of - something - and poured himself a glass. For the next couple minutes, the only thing Billy heard was the chief sipping his drink far more noisily than he had to. He was making a statement, Billy knew - ensuring Billy didn't forget he was there.

As if that were possible.

"I'm guessing you don't have work boots," Hopper said finally.

Billy scoffed_. No shit, Sherlock. _Work boots were a Neil Hargrove look.

"Well, we'll have to stop and get you some."

Ah, yes. The next step in his transformation into a blue collar man. Billy licked his lip and raised his head to glare at Hopper. Hopper returned his glare coolly, taking a sip of his drink, which turned out to be orange juice. 

He clearly meant business. Clearly.

_ Goddammit_. Growling under his breath, Billy rolled slowly onto his back, screwed his eyes shut, and stuck his hands in his hair.

That seemed to hit a nerve with the chief. "Oh, please. It's not that big of a deal. None of this is. Just play along and follow instructions. You _ are _capable of following instructions, aren't you?"

"Go to hell," Billy snarled.

"Hey!" 

Hopper slammed his cup down and stalked into the living room. Billy looked at him sharply, unable to deny the instinct to keep a close eye on the big, angry man. 

"_Watch_...the _ attitude,_" Hopper enunciated. His glower filled the room like a cloud of smoke. "Yeah, okay. We made a deal. That doesn't mean I can't kick you out whenever I damn well please."

"Alright, then do it!" Billy shouted. "Throw me out! I don't give a shit. I was doing fine until you decided to play hero."

The chief laughed harshly. "Oh, it was hardly about you, kid. Maybe I just didn't want an eighteen-year-old sleeping off hangovers in a public park,_ in my town_. Ever think about that?"

Rage boiled in Billy's chest. Before it could erupt, a quiet voice asked from the hallway, "What's going on?"

Eleven. Hopper whirled around to look at her, and Billy craned his neck to do the same. She was standing at the doorway into the kitchen, hair mussed from sleep, uncertainty on her face.

Billy's rage vanished. He swallowed, remembering the last time she stood in that spot.

_ You're wrong_.

"Hey, sweetheart." Hopper went to her, all sugar and spice now that a child was watching him. "Sorry about that. Why don't you just, uh, go back to your room, and we'll do a better job keeping our voices down. Okay?"

"Why are you mad?"

_ Because your _ friend _ here is being a dick. _ Hopper wanted to say it; Billy could tell. "We're just having a disagreement. Nothing to worry about, I promise. Now back to your room."

El glanced at Billy, still uncertain. He looked away instantly, cheeks burning. Christ, how could she look at him like that, as if last night had never happened? She should be mad at him. Or scared. Or _ something_.

Reluctantly, she did as Hopper asked. As soon as her door closed, Hopper sighed and ran a hand down his face. He meandered into the living room, his attention not entirely present. Billy watched him, tensing all over, not knowing what to expect. 

The chief stroked his chin. Turned a hard but thoughtful gaze on Billy.

"_I… _ need _ you_," he said quietly, "to cooperate with me. That's the only way this is gonna work. And there's no good reason for it not to. Do you agree with me on that?"

_ Agree? _ Billy stared at Hopper, baffled. Authority figures didn't ask those kinds of questions. They demanded obedience, or they dispensed punishment. There was no third option.

However, when it became clear the chief expected an answer, Billy muttered, "Yeah."

"Good. That gives us a fighting chance."

They stared at each other after that, neither of them sure how to proceed. They'd put down their weapons; they'd signed a truce. But what did peace even look like? Sound like?

Hands on his hips, Hopper took a stab at it. "Do you, uh… have just the one pair of jeans?"

In a flash, Billy remembered rifling violently through his dresser, pulling out only the clothes that would fit in his arms, as Max watched from the door to his room. "Yeah."

"Should probably get you another pair. You know, for work."

"I don't have the money."

"Don't worry about that. We'll figure it out."

In other words: _ I'll buy it, you can pay me back later_. Billy shifted on the couch, holding back a grimace. Fuck, he was trying to pay off his debts, and here he was racking up more. Fantastic.

"Alright, well…" Hopper squared his shoulders. "Get up, get dressed. We leave in fifteen."

With a final, parental look, he went to the front door. As he exited to the porch - going out for a smoke, probably - Billy groaned and covered his face with his hands.

He didn't know how he'd get through this. He had no fucking clue.

\--

The weather was warmer than last time. Aside from that, leaving in the truck felt like deja vu. Hopper had spent his last five minutes in the trailer brewing a pot of coffee - for himself, Billy assumed. Then he'd gone out to the truck, thermos in hand, to wait for Billy. The moment Billy ducked into the passenger seat, wearing his rattiest shirt and his only pair of jeans, Hopper offered him the thermos. Billy stared at it a second, then looked at Hopper, expecting a joke of some kind. When Hopper raised his eyebrows, making it clear this was no joke, Billy blew air out of his nose and took the thermos.

Right. Every working man needs his coffee. How could he forget.

To add to the deja vu, as they backed away from the trailer, the curtains in the living room window parted. Billy looked over in time to see El peek out, her hair as mussed as before. He stared at her, emboldened by the distance between them, and chewed his lip.

_ How? _ he kept thinking. How was she so unaffected?

"You're wondering why I'm leaving her here."

Billy glanced at Hopper. The chief was staring out the windshield as he pulled down the driveway. Billy thought about laughing and saying, _ Actually, I wasn't. But hey, nice try. _ Now that the chief mentioned it, though, it seemed like a good question. 

Why _ was _ he leaving her here? Sure, a child couldn't help with the actual roofing part. But she could do stupid stuff like fetch tools and bring them water and shit. It wouldn't be fun, but it'd be a chance for her to get out and breathe the fresh air.

Instead, she was staying in prison for yet another day. It bothered him, made him want to break her out and go running around with her, screaming, in the grass.

"I asked if she wanted to come," Hopper intoned. "She said no. She's had, uh--" he sniffed "--she's had problems. Y'know, ever since the summer. She… she doesn't like seeing the place."

_ The cabin. _Billy's heart skipped a beat. Jaw muscles twitching, he turned to look out the window. They'd pulled out onto the road by now, and the trees were starting to fly by as the truck accelerated.

_Don't you see? All this time, we've been building it. _

_ We've been building it… for you. _

"That's why I moved us out. Why I haven't been in a hurry to get back. I'm trying to give her time. And, you know," Hopper mused, "it's possible she won't ever want to go back. If that's the case, well... we'll do what we have to."

Billy glanced down at his hand in his lap. He opened it, studied his fingers as the skin flexed over them, thought of black tendrils crawling across them like vines, making them do things they'd never wanted to do.

He coughed against a dry throat. "Um. So…" He lifted his thermos to his lips. "You'd, um… sell it?"

"Maybe. Or rent it out. Either way, the roof needs fixing."

That it did. Billy shut his eyes and took a swig of coffee, banishing the memory of a monster ripping through wood.

\--

To Billy's relief, their little shopping trip proved incredibly straightforward. Hit up one store, buy boots. Hit up another, buy jeans. As Hopper had implied he would, he paid for both. He didn't say anything about it, and Billy didn't say anything either. _ Just let it happen_, he told himself. He'd pay Hopper back later. He would.

By the time they got to the cabin, it was around noon. The sun hung directly overhead, shining in full force. And yet, as they pulled up and parked in the leaf litter, Billy could've sworn the temperature dropped a notch or two. The sunlight even dimmed a little, as if someone had turned a dial. 

Billy's stomach dropped. Climbing out of the truck, he held the door open and stared at the cabin. Like before, it crouched low to the ground, staring back at him. This time, though, it didn't feel like it was hiding. This time it felt like it was ready to lunge.

Billy thought of his nightmare last night - of a gory maw lunging at his face - and recoiled.

_ You can't escape me, Billy. I will always be within you. _

"Go inside and get changed." Hopper slammed his door. "We need to get started asap."

As he rounded the truck to grab tools out of the bed, he tossed his keys to Billy. Billy caught them, then looked back at the cabin. His palms grew sweaty, and he clenched his fist so hard the keys cut into his skin.

Visions flashed in front of his eyes. A giant, fleshy beast tearing open the cabin. A tentacle seizing Eleven by the leg. Screams and shotgun blasts. And before that, _ him_, dressed in a wife beater, stalking toward Eleven as she wept.

_ We were here together, Billy. Do you remember? _

Laughter echoed in his mind.

He swallowed, eyes burning._ It's all in the past. _ He reached into the truck, grabbed his new jeans and boots, and shut the door. _ It's all in the past, _he told himself as he trudged toward the cabin.

_ It's all. In the mother. Fucking. Past. _

That thought carried him onto the porch, where Hopper had piled a bunch of roofing materials, and through the door into the cabin's dimly lit belly. Once he was inside, though, it lost its protective power. Suddenly his heart rate increased, and he found himself struggling to breathe. His gaze darted to the ceiling, the furniture swathed in plastic, the darkness gathering in the corners.

_ He's here. _ His mouth flooded with the taste of bile. _ He's here. He's just hiding. Waiting for me. _

Eyes wide, he crept through the open space. He stole a look in El's room. Nothing. Then he edged toward Hopper's room, which was obscured by a pale floral curtain. Holding his breath, he reached out with trembling fingers, grasped the curtain, and ripped it to the side.

Nothing.

He let his breath go. Shoulders slumping, he walked into the room and closed the curtain behind him. He stood there a moment, still holding the curtain, willing his heartbeat to slow.

_ This is ridiculous_, he thought. _ He's gone. We fucking killed him. _

Yet as he stripped off his jeans and tugged on the new ones, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him. It charged the air, made the hairs on his neck stand on end. He kept scanning the room, expecting one of the shadows to move, to reach for him with a slithering tentacle.

_I cannot be killed, _a voice like his whispered_. I cannot be denied._

When he barged out of the cabin two minutes later, he was covered in sweat. Hopper had just walked up to the porch with an armful of tools. He dumped them, took one look at Billy, and froze.

"Jesus. What happened to you?"

"I'm fine." Wiping his forehead, Billy glared at the chief. "Are we doing this? 'Cause I'm ready if you are."

\--

Briefly, Hopper explained the plan. Their goal today was to remove the old shingles and patch the hole in the roof. Tomorrow they could install the new shingles and, if they had time, work on the siding.

"Though we won't have to do the whole roof," Hopper said. "My bedroom's a new addition, so the shingles are new."

Small mercies.

For the next hour, Billy obeyed every instruction without complaint. He didn't even grumble about the music Hopper put on the radio. His docility, so uncharacteristic of him, seemed to unnerve Hopper. As they lay tarps on the ground and installed roof jacks, the chief watched him closely, a hard glint in his eye. Billy ignored it, focusing instead on the rough texture of his gloves, the stiffness of his boots, the toolbelt hanging off his hips.

Yeah, he was struggling. But he'd be fucked, _ fucked_, before he let Hopper see any of it.

Once they got on the roof, he didn't have to pretend as much. He'd never been on a roof before, and for a few minutes, the sensation was so weird he could think of nothing else. He had to wear a safety harness, too, which was another kind of weird. A bright yellow strappy thing, it wrapped around his hip and shoulder joints. If he ever slipped, a tether nailed into the roof would keep him from tumbling off the side.

It was worth it, he guessed. Even if it made him look like a dumbass.

When they started pulling up shingles, he relaxed. Hell, he even began to enjoy the process. It was simple, straightforward. Tear off some shingles with his garden fork; let them slide down to the jacks if they wanted to; gather them up every so often, and toss them in the dumpster in the back. It kept him busy. Before long he was sweating from exertion, not fear.

_ This isn't so bad_, he thought. He could even see himself doing it as a job. Just two months of this, and he'd be in the best fucking shape of his life.

Hopper, for his part, was _ not _ in the best shape of his life. At one point, Billy stopped for a drink of water. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hopper pause and wipe his face with a rag. His skin was flushed, his tattered flannel drenched in sweat.

Billy smirked. God, he wanted to say something. The chief fucking deserved it after being such an asshole.

Before he could think of a good insult, a voice whispered in his ear.

_ Billy. _

He spun around, nearly losing his balance. His eyes searched the trees, and his throat tightened.

"You alright?"

Billy looked at the chief, who was leaning on his garden fork, watching him. He put on his mask like he always did.

"Yeah." Sticking his water bottle in his toolbelt, he went back to peeling up shingles.

_ Billy, _ said the voice. _ You're strong, but you can't defy him, Billy. _

_ He'll kill you, Billy. _

_ Billy-- _

A thunderclap rocked the ground; a flash of light blinded him. He cried out, stumbling backward and dropping his garden fork. It clattered down the roof and out of sight.

Breathing hard, he steadied himself. He looked around slowly, hands raised to protect his face. As he did, a pit of terror opened inside him. His heartbeat slowed, and his blood with it, until it crawled through his veins like treacle.

The sun was gone. Hopper was gone. Red lightning lashed through the sky, and particles drifted through the air like dandelion seeds. Below Billy's feet, vines engulfed the roof of the house, tangling through each other like snakes.

_ No_. Billy turned in a slow circle. _ Oh god, please, no. _

His gaze landed on the roof's edge right when a hand shot up and grabbed it. He watched as a shadowy form pulled itself up, hooking an all-too-familiar boot over the edge.

It was him. Not-Him.

His double raised himself to his full height. Stared at him with cold, dead eyes.

_ How? _

Billy could hardly speak. "W-what do you want?" He got louder. "Why are you here?"

Not-Him said nothing. Stiffly, unnaturally, he walked up the roof.

"H-hey. Stay away." Billy took a step back. "Did you hear me? I said stay away!"

Not-Him kept coming. Chest heaving, Billy stood his ground until his senses overcame his machismo. Then he turned to flee - and turned right into a hand seizing his throat.

Not-Him. He'd gotten past him somehow.

Billy choked, face crumpling as he clawed at the hand on his neck. It was impossibly strong, crushing his windpipe, like he'd crushed Eleven's not so long ago.

"You," said his double. "You are pathetic. Weak. I could destroy you in an instant. And still you defy me."

Billy gasped raggedly for air. He couldn't feel, couldn't think, beyond the terrible certainty that this was the end.

Not-Him leaned closer. In his lifeless eyes, Billy could see a shadow stretching across the sky.

"Submit," he said. "Or die."

Billy's vision blurred; his lungs burned. As his strength faded and his hands began to slip from his attacker's, Not-Him vanished, and with him the otherworld.

Gasping, then sighing, Billy fell.


	13. Heart To Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hopper and Billy discuss what happened on the roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for a homophobic slur.

Later on, Billy would remember the next few moments in fragments. Hopper's muffled voice speaking to him. A ringing in his ears. His head fucking _ hurting, _and his shin too. The straps around his hips and shoulders releasing their grip. The roof moving at a slow, wobbly pace as he hobbled to the ladder with someone's help.

After that, he'd remember nothing until the moment he stirred on the couch.

He was lying on his back, one hand resting on his chest. As his aching head lolled on the cushion, he realized this wasn't the couch he'd gotten used to. That one was old and threadbare with parts of the frame jutting into your body at the worst possible spots. This one? Plush, comfortable, and spacious enough to stretch out on. God, why wasn't he sleeping here?

Then his eyes opened, and he found himself looking at the slats of a sloped wooden ceiling. A jolt shot through his insides. Fuck, where was he? Had the Mind Flayer taken him somewhere?

_ Wait, no. _ He blinked. No, of course - he was in the cabin. Hopper had helped him off the roof and taken him inside. Shit, why would he think anything else?

_ You fucking idiot. _

His lips twitched. Suddenly, a bubble of laughter swelled in his chest. He tried to hold it down, tried to stuff it back in the bottle where it belonged, but it burst out anyway, a wild cackle that sounded deranged even to him. So he let himself cackle, shutting his eyes and clutching his ribcage.

Sweet fuck, what even happened? Had it even been real? Maybe this was it; this really was the end, and in a few months people would say, _Poor Billy, he lasted only eighteen years before cracking like an egg._

At any rate, it was ridiculous. _ Ridiculous_.

"What the hell's so funny?"

Hopper, walking toward the couch. He must've been in another part of the room. His question only made Billy laugh harder.

So fucking ridiculous.

"Alright, alright. That's enough."

A hand wrenched Billy's chin toward Hopper's voice. Next thing he knew, a beam of light was stabbing into his open eye. He jerked to the side. "Hey, what the--"

Fingers forced his other eyelid open, and the light stabbed there too. He snarled, "Fuck off," and knocked it away.

"Well, your pupils look normal, so that's good," Hopper said.

Blinking through the afterglow, Billy looked in Hopper's direction. The chief's tall, blurry form hovered over the couch. As it resolved, bringing the chief's face into focus, Billy could make out a telltale tightness around his eyes and mouth. Billy couldn't help it - he broke out laughing again.

"What? Worried about my pretty little head, chief?"

"Sure, if you want to call it that."

"I do. I really do."

"Fine, knock yourself out."

Oh fuck, a joke. Had the chief meant to make a joke? Billy cackled even more and turned away.

That was one bridge too far for the chief. "Alright, kid, I need you to calm down. This shit is serious." 

Billy felt the air shift as the chief crouched beside him. The old instinct reared its head - look at the big man immediately; watch him at all costs - but Billy just chuckled. Did it even god damn matter anymore? Fuck.

"How's your head?" Hopper asked.

"Hurts." Billy choked on a laugh.

"How bad? Scale of one to ten."

"I don't fucking know. Five? Six?"

"How about your vision? Is it blurred? Do you see stars?"

"Um…" Billy's eyes opened to a sea of red. Oh yeah, the couch - the couch was red. "Not really."

"Okay. Ringing in your ears?"

"Kinda." 

"Dizziness? Nausea?"

"The fuck is this, Twenty Questions?"

"Just answer me."

"Okay, Jesus. No, I feel fine."

Hopper sighed heavily. "Alright. Good. Good, you might be okay. But we'll have to keep an eye on you. Sometimes it takes a while to hit."

He stood and moved away. Feeling dazed, Billy turned his head to look at him. The chief had crossed the distance to the nearest chair. However, instead of sitting _ on _ the chair like a normal person, he was settling on the floor with his back _ to _ the chair. Billy scoffed. Why did people fucking do that?

"So." Propping a hand on his knee, Hopper stared at Billy. "You wanna tell me what happened up there? The truth, if you don't mind," he added pointedly.

_The truth._ Panic stabbed Billy in the gut, sending waves of nervous heat through his body. All of a sudden he felt sober again, and real. Dangerously real.

The truth? Even in his dazed state, he knew better than to tell Hopper that_. Yeah, okay. I saw the Mind Flayer again, and he told me to submit or die. And yeah, I'm living under the same roof as Eleven, the girl he built an army to kill. But that's okay! You know why? Because I'm not sure it was even real. Yeah, it _felt_ real, but so have a lot of things over the past couple months. So, you know. Reasonable doubt._

Yeah. That shit would get him kicked out of the trailer in two seconds. An hour ago that wouldn't have seemed so bad. Now the mere thought made his gorge rise.

If the Mind Flayer was out there, the last thing he wanted to do was sleep in his car at night. Alone.

And yet, one major problem was staring him right in the face: Hopper knew something had happened. Billy could tell by the way the chief looked at him. He was trying to seem casual, aloof, like they were in his office and he was just taking down a routine police report. But beneath the surface, something sharp glinted in his eye, like a switchblade hidden in his palm. 

He knew the Mind Flayer was involved. He _ knew._ And if Billy lied too blatantly, the switchblade would be at his throat.

Billy swallowed. Maybe he could tell Hopper the truth and just… take the fangs out of it. It'd still be the truth, right?

"I, uh…" He chuckled lowly. "I saw something. It came out of nowhere, hit me like a freight train. Boom."

" 'Something'? What's 'something'?"

"Oh, you know. Myself." 

A laugh burst out of him. Christ, it was all too trippy.

"Yourself?" Annoyance colored Hopper's tone. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I saw myself. My… what's the word? Doppelganger? He attacked me, and I guess I fell and hit my head. Whoops."

"Did he say anything to you?"

Here it was. The moment he quietly defanged the facts. Billy smirked, even as his gut clenched. "No."

"You're positive?"

"I might've hit my head, Hop, but I think I would remember if he said anything to me."

It was a good technique: pour on the sarcasm to distract from the less-than-total honesty. Billy had pioneered it himself, and he was a fucking expert at it.

Hopper blinked, obviously skeptical, but choosing to accept his answer for now. "Okay. Do you remember anything else?"

Shit. Another row of glistening fangs. Billy's smirk faded, and he looked at the ceiling, swiping his tongue over his lip.

He was walking a tightrope here. On one side of the rope, he left too many fangs in - told too much truth - and branded himself a monster. Broken. Defective. Hopper would kick him out for being a threat to Eleven, and he'd be left in the open, exposed to the Mind Flayer, like a puppy in a field where the hawks were circling. On the other side of the rope, he left the truth with nothing but flabby gums, and it was too obvious. Hopper caught on, suspected he was lying about everything, and resolved to watch him for signs of "possession." Eventually he'd catch something that _ seemed _ like a sign, and he'd use it as an excuse to kick Billy out.

Either way, Billy fell to his death.

He studied the slats above him, twisting the fabric of his shirt. Steeling his nerves, he stepped forward on the tightrope. "I was in, um… a place. A weird place."

"Weird? Weird how?"

"It was dark. Cold. I was still on the roof, but it was covered with these… vines."

When Hopper didn't answer, Billy risked a glance at him. The chief was staring at a random spot on the couch, rolling a flashlight in his hands, his jaw tense. Right away, Billy knew the chief understood what had happened: in one way or another, Billy had seen the Upside Down.

"You've seen this place before?" Hopper's gaze turned hard, pinning Billy to the wall. Billy squirmed and felt his face heat. Fuck, had he misstepped already?

"Yeah. Back when… you know."

_ When I was a slave to a creature from another dimension. _

This time the silence dragged on. Billy watched Hopper the whole time, his foot bouncing on the end of the sofa. Hopper, meanwhile, kept rolling the flashlight in his hands. He stared at the floorboards a while, then at the wall. Finally he sighed and leaned back against the chair.

"Listen, kid. I don't want to jump to conclusions. It _ could _ be him somehow. Then again, it could be trauma. You know, PTSD."

"The fuck is that?"

"Post-traumatic stress disorder. Flashbacks, extreme reactions, shit like that. Combat vets get it. And, um, abuse victims."

The way he said _ abuse victims _ implied he put Billy in that camp. Billy's throat closed up. _ Don't think about it, _ he thought. _ Just don't. _

"Thing is, this happened to Will Byers last year. Joyce's kid - you met him. I thought it was just trauma." Hopper balled a hand into a fist. "Turns out I was wrong."

_ Fuck. Oh FUCK. _

Billy's heart began to pound. He willed himself to keep staring at Hopper head-on. He wanted to see the moment everything changed - the moment Hopper decided he was a threat and turned to him with a glare of death. He wanted to grab the bull by the horns, even if it meant impaling his hands on them.

The moment never came.

"Here's the problem," Hopper said simply. "It could be real. But in the absence of other evidence, it could all be in your head. There's no way to tell. There just… there just isn't."

Billy couldn't look away. His eyes stayed fixed on the chief as a deep confusion settled in his core, making his stomach churn.

Wait, so… Hopper _wasn't _going to kick him out? That seemed… unlike him. Billy didn't know Hopper that well, but from everything he'd seen, he'd judged the chief to be an act-now-think-later kind of guy. Acting now would look like screaming "mayday, mayday" and throwing Billy overboard. This? This felt like thinking. And that meant Hopper was getting the sequence wrong.

So Billy was already frowning, baffled as fuck, when Hopper delivered his next line. 

"If this is PTSD… god. I shouldn't have brought you here." The chief leaned his head back and sighed through his nose. "El doesn't like seeing the place. I should've known it would get to you too." 

He looked at Billy with an open expression. No ego, no bravado. Just a man admitting his mistakes. "I'm sorry, kid."

Billy stared at him with wide eyes. He knew he was scowling and probably looked furious as a result, but he couldn't stop. He just stared, blinking too quickly, chewing his lip so hard he peeled bits of skin off.

This was fucking bizarre. Unprecedented. Hell, it was nearly as unprecedented as being possessed by an interdimensional monster. Grown men like Jim Hopper never apologized. When they made a decision, they stuck with it till their dying day. If it hurt someone, well, screw them. Sympathy - true sympathy, and not the kind you faked for your own advantage - was for women, children, and faggots. It made you weak, opened you to exploitation and abuse.

Billy had learned that lesson well. He'd fucking lived and breathed it in his climb to the top. It was how he'd become King of Hawkins High, lettered in basketball, and slept with more women than any other guy in school. He'd played by two simple rules: show no weakness, and when someone, anyone, shows a glimmer of it themselves, cut them down. At the end of the day, they'd do the same to you.

Jim Hopper, police chief of Hawkins, had just broken the rules. By apologizing, he'd reached down from further up the ladder and offered Billy a hand. It made no sense, defied all explanation. 

So Billy kept staring at him, scowling in utter bewilderment, until the chief sighed and pushed himself up.

"Let's get you home," he said, standing to his feet. "You shouldn't do any more work for a couple days. It's bad for you."

Oh thank God, an opening. Billy deepened his scowl. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he said as he sat up. The change in position triggered a stab of pain in his head, and he winced.

"You've had one of these before?"

Billy shot Hopper an icy glare that said _ what do you think? _It took Hopper a moment, but he seemed to realize what Billy meant. Heartache flashed through his eyes, and he looked away.

_ Yeah, _ Billy thought as he stood up slowly. _ Just _ try _ living my life. _

"I'll, uh, need to come back here and finish up." Hopper twirled the flashlight absently in his hand. "Someone should watch you, though. And I think I know who to call."

Billy glanced at Hopper in alarm. However, the chief was already heading for the door, his mind miles ahead. Nostrils flaring, Billy shambled after him.

Great. What incredible person was he going to drag into Billy's life _ this _ time?


	14. The Scars We Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> El insists on helping, and Billy can't bring himself to say no.

They said nothing to each other on the ride back. It felt like deja vu all over again: the chief staring out the windshield, totally preoccupied, while Billy found ways to cope with the silence. At first he hated it, just like he had two days ago.

Halfway through the ride, the silence stopped being silent.

As he looked blearily out the window, pressing a fist against his throbbing headache, voices began to pour through his mind like water through a sieve. They came in bursts, layered on top of one another in whispers and shouts, too numerous to fend off. He still tried. Shutting his eyes and scrunching up his nose, he tried to slam the gates to his mind, the ones that had protected him after every fight with his dad, every too-vivid memory of his mom.

It didn't work. The gates were hanging off their hinges, and the voices were too loud.

_ What, did I raise a pussy for a son? _

_ I could destroy you in an instant. And still you defy me. _

_ I shouldn't have brought you here. I'm sorry, kid. _

That last one made another bubble of laughter swell in his chest. This time, though, it didn't come out. It just stayed there and ached like he'd swallowed air. Rubbing his chest, he settled for laughing in his head.

_ Fuck all of you_, he thought. _ Motherfuckers_.

He was so completely out of it - so busy laughing at each voice to let them know they didn't hurt him - that he missed the crunch of the truck's tires pulling onto gravel. He didn't even realize they'd arrived at the trailer until the truck jerked to a stop. Then the voices vanished, and he glanced around, startled.

The living room curtains moved in his periphery. He looked over to see them swaying a little, like someone had opened them a second ago.

_ El._ Fear clawed at his throat. Oh fuck, what about her? What did this mean for her?

_ Goddammit, pull yourself together. _ He stabbed his nails into his palms, using the pain to bring him focus. He didn't know any of this was real, not yet anyway. Protecting her, for now, meant shielding her as much as possible from his insanity.

Yeah. Yeah, he could do that.

"Hey, Hop." He turned to the chief as the man unbuckled himself. His tone of voice must've been strange, because Hopper looked at him instantly, hand still on his seat belt. He studied Billy, letting go of his seat belt so it could slide into its berth.

"Yeah?"

Billy took a breath. "I don't…" He faltered. Started again. "I don't want El to know what I saw. She...she doesn't need to know. Not yet."

A change came over Hopper's face. It was slight, lasting only a split second. But for that split second, he looked... grateful. Even kind.

"No. She doesn't."

Billy nodded, feeling a spark of warmth. Before it could grow any larger, he turned and climbed out of the truck.

El had already unlocked the front door by the time they got to the porch. As they stepped inside, tracking in weariness and anxiety like mud on their boots, she hovered close by, vibrating with her own anxious energy. Surprisingly, she didn't even ask why they were home. She just came forward, words tumbling out.

"Mrs. Byers called. She said--she said Will felt something, and sh-she was asking about Billy…"

Billy and Hopper stopped cold and looked at each other. 

_Fuck_. _Shit_._ Fuck._

"What did Will feel?" Hopper asked, turning to El.

"She didn't tell me, sh-she just wanted you to call. What's going on? Did something happen?"

Hopper didn't answer. With another look at Billy, he went straight to the kitchen phone. Billy shut the front door, and for a few seconds he stayed there, his chest so tight he could hardly breathe. 

She was close to him. Too close. He could feel her eyes on him as she waited for some explanation, some assurance he was okay. But he didn't know what assurance he could give. _ I saw the Mind Flayer. But don't worry, that doesn't mean he's back. I might just be going crazy, and Will can feel it because we're "brothers." _Sure, that'd be a comfort to someone like Mike, who hated Billy to begin with. But Eleven?

He kept his palm flat on the door, a weird pain gnawing at his heart. Her presence glowed just off his right shoulder, bright and burning.

If he literally went crazy, Eleven would be devastated. He didn't have to ask. He just knew.

Chewing his lip, he pushed off the door and shambled through the kitchen, avoiding her gaze. He couldn't deal with her right now. Hopper had just dialed Joyce's number, and he was standing with the phone to his ear, watching Billy. Waiting.

He only had to wait a couple seconds. Billy was crossing into the living room when Hopper's voice piped up, "Joyce? Yeah, it's Jim."

The voice on the other end was so loud Billy could hear it. Wincing, he limped toward the couch.

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down. Yeah, I was just about to call you. Something did happen with Billy." Hopper paused. "We're not sure. You said Will felt something?"

Billy processed Hopper's words right as he dropped onto the couch. Eyes widening, he glanced at the chief.

_ Yeah, I was just about to call you. _ Goddammit, that meant Hopper had planned to ask _ Joyce Byers _ to watch Billy. Rolling his eyes, Billy sighed and slumped sideways on the couch, curls spilling over the cushions.

Life just kept getting better and better.

He didn't even try to follow the rest of the conversation. It was hard enough existing in this moment with a throbbing head and shin, his brain buzzing with memories both new and old. He just wanted it to stop. He'd never asked for a ticket to this carousel ride, and he could feel himself getting more and more sick with each go around. What happened when he lost the final shred of wellness he had left? He didn't want to know.

El sat at the table and, as always, watched over him from afar. It hurt him, the concern he saw on her face. Where had she gotten the idea he deserved concern? He fucking didn't. He was an asshole, full stop. And that was _ before _ the Mind Flayer entered the picture.

Screwing his eyes shut, he gripped the edge of the couch cushion. Fuck, maybe he should just die. That'd fix a lot of problems, wouldn't it.

_ We'll see, _ whispered a voice. _ No need to rush. _

Eventually, Hopper hung up the phone. Billy heard his boots scuff the floor as he turned toward the living room.

"Joyce and Will are gonna be here in twenty."

Oh great.Joyce _ and _ Will. Billy hadn't known it was possible to sink lower than this, but here he was, sinking.

He grit his teeth, and his grip tightened on the cushion. Fuck, he couldn't wait to be in the same room as not two, not three, but _ four _ people who made him want to shoot himself, each in their own special way.

Though maybe the problem was him and not them? The thought struck him with enough force for his heart to skip a beat. He opened his eyes, frowning at the carpet.

"Joyce says Will felt something, but it's not like it was. They think..." Hopper sighed, and Billy heard him scratch his stubbled cheek. "They think it's connected to you. Other than that, they don't know what it means."

_Wonderful. They can join the club._ The words jumped to Billy's tongue, but he found he didn't have the will to say them. Or anything, really. Instead, he relaxed his hold on the couch and let himself check out, his senses melting together in a vague wash.

Hopper said a few more things. His voice faded, though, to a background murmur - a radio you left on at night when you couldn't sleep. Apparently what he said wasn't too important, because he didn't notice Billy's lack of attention. He just went to the table, sat next to El, and started talking quietly to her. 

At first Billy thought nothing of it. Then he caught a few key words - _ Billy_, _ roof_, and _ Mind Flayer _\- and his attention came roaring back. Skewering the chief with a glare, he nearly sat up, but stopped as his head lifted off the cushion. 

No - Hopper was right. Their agreement didn't matter anymore. El had learned something was wrong the minute Joyce called. Now they were getting together for a big powwow about it, and that meant they couldn't hide any of it from her.

_ Fuck._ _God fucking damn everything. _

An ache spread through Billy's bones. Running a hand down his face, he sat up slowly, biting back a groan.

God. He couldn't stay in this room. Not when Hopper was telling El the story just a few feet away. Soon she'd start _ looking _ at him, and he couldn't handle that shit right now. So he dragged himself to his feet, trying not to wince too obviously, and limped through the kitchen to the hallway. El's eyes followed him, of course - he could feel their weight - so when he entered the bathroom, he shut the door behind him. The latch engaged with a _ snick_.

Just like that, he was alone.

Hand lingering on the doorknob, he glanced over his shoulder at the bathroom. It seemed larger than he remembered - larger, somehow, than its physical dimensions allowed. Pushing the sensation away, he flicked the light on, hobbled to the sink, and leaned over it, gripping the wooden sides of the countertop.

He looked in the mirror. His reflection looked back, and he realized he hadn't checked it in days.

Jesus. He'd really let himself go, hadn't he? His curls hung in limp tangles around his face, his jaw was covered in scruff, and his bloodshot eyes stared at him with more despair than he was used to seeing. Grimacing, he looked back down at the sink.

Well, fuck it. He hadn't come here to critique his appearance. Jaw clenching, he opened the mirror cabinet and scanned the pill bottles inside. _ Ibuprofen. _He grabbed the bottle and screwed off the top. Four pills rattled into his hand, then disappeared into his mouth. It was probably more than the recommended dosage, but as of today, he didn't fucking care. Let him OD on painkillers; at least he wouldn't have to put up with this shit anymore.

After that, he scrutinized his neck in the mirror, combing his fingers over the skin. The Mind Flayer had choked him pretty hard. If it was real, he'd probably have some bruising. That's how he could tell if it was real. Right?

Yet, when he found no marks, he felt none of the relief he'd been expecting. He dropped his hands to the sink, staring blankly at his reflection.

_ How am I going to get through this? _ The thought echoed unbidden in his mind. _ How do I not blow my brains out by the end of it? _

"Billy."

A voice - directly behind him. He whirled, clutching frantically at the sink, searching every inch of the wall with wild eyes.

Whose voice had it been? It sounded familiar.

_ Billy._

The mirror this time. Slowly, unable to help himself, he turned to look in the mirror. Behind his reflection, he saw Max standing by the wall, wearing her rainbow top from that night outside the sauna, her hair pulled up in a neon green scrunchie. Her skin was pale, her eyes wide with terror.

"Max," he breathed. What the hell was she doing here?

"Billy, help me," she whispered, trembling visibly. "Please. Please help me."

Then he blinked, and she was gone.

His heart pounded once, a single, solitary beat. He stepped closer to the mirror, peering at the spot she'd been in, as if he just wasn't looking hard enough. Then he spun to face the wall. He saw nothing - nothing to suggest she'd actually been there - just an expanse of floral wallpaper and a horrible emptiness, the kind a person left behind when they died.

He was still facing the wall, paralyzed by the emptiness, when another voice spoke from the door.

"Billy?"

He jerked toward the voice. Eleven was standing in the open doorway, frowning, hesitant.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He stared at her. Wait. Hadn't he shut the door? Or had Eleven come along while he was dissociating and just… opened it? She wouldn't do that, surely. He could've been doing anything in here, and she wasn't _ that _ much of a social klutz.

He swallowed. She shouldn't see this. Any of this.

"You need to go," he muttered darkly. He turned back to the sink, gripping the countertop. Where had he been? Ah, yes. Examining his reflection and wondering how he'd survive.

"Billy, you can talk to me. I want to help you."

She stepped into the bathroom, her thick aura of concern billowing in behind her like the train of a dress. He glanced at her, fingers curling tightly over the counter. She was studying him with such open compassion it made his chest spasm. There was a touch of fear, yes; he could see it in the way her throat bobbed and her hands plucked at the hem of her flannel shirt. But she was looking at the object of her fear, this crazy-eyed boy-man with a gaggle of demons hanging off his shoulders, and choosing to get in the cage with him. 

It was insane. Maybe as insane as he was.

He shook his head. "You can't help me," he said. His voice sounded hoarse like he'd been screaming.

"You haven't let me try," she answered firmly. In the snap of a finger, her gaze shifted from concerned to taking-no-shit. It almost made him chuckle. Almost. Then he thought of his double strangling him on the roof, of his own hand strangling her outside the sauna, and his body went cold.

"Yeah." He huffed. "There's a fucking reason for that."

She tilted her head, features softening, and propped a hand on her hip. How did she do that? Manage to look so tough, so resolute, and still show she cared?

"Billy. I know you don't want to hurt me. But I can take care of myself. And I _ want_\--" she raised her eyebrows "--to help you."

Holy Mother. She really was certifiable. He watched her, not moving from the counter, unable to process, unable to reply.

His lack of response emboldened her. Sighing like a weary parent, she walked right up to him.

"Dad wants to know if you've taken medicine."

He opened his mouth, but was so bewildered by her closeness he could barely speak. "I… yeah."

She eyed him skeptically. Sighed again, as if to emphasize what a mess he was.

"Come on." She grabbed his arm. "You should drink water."

As she dragged him from the bathroom, shutting the light off on their way out, he stared at the back of her head in utter disbelief.

What… the _ fuck… _ was even happening?

More importantly, why did he feel powerless to do anything about it?

\--

At El's insistence, he drank water, ate a snack, and returned to the couch immediately after. Hopper stayed out on the porch, smoking, as he waited for Joyce and Will's arrival. Smart move, Billy thought, since this trailer was about to get fucking crowded. 

Groaning aloud, Billy eased down onto the couch and stuck his bum leg out in front of him. El walked up to join him, only to hesitate and look down at his leg.

"Can I see?"

He glanced at her in surprise. Though he knew exactly what she was talking about, he couldn't help but ask, "What?"

She pointed at it. His eyes flicked down to his pants leg, and he realized he hadn't even checked it himself. It hadn't seemed important, somehow. All he knew was it definitely wasn't broken, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to walk on it.

_ Fuck._ His mouth went dry. She'd have to touch him, but goddamn if she hadn't touched him more than he wanted her to already. Exhaling through his nose, he turned a stony glare to the wall.

"Fine," he muttered, sinking back into the couch. He felt more than saw the small smile she gave him, and it was enough to make his innards writhe.

As she knelt in front of him, his uninjured leg started bouncing. Up-down-up-down-up-down. It must've gotten on her nerves, because as she rolled up his pants leg, she shot out a hand to hold down his knee. When he looked at her, she returned his look with such cold venom a smirk teased his lips.

"Sorry."

She glared at him a second longer, then kept rolling up the denim. Once it reached his knee, she tugged his leg toward her for a better view. He watched her expression, using it to judge the severity of the damage, before letting his gaze slide downward.

All told, it wasn't the worst injury he'd ever sustained. In the lower quadrant of his shin, a whopper of a goose egg had formed, its coloring a patchwork of red, blue, and purple splotches. Painful, yeah, and it'd take fucking weeks to heal. But he hadn't broken any bones, so he called that a win.

"How did it happen?" she asked quietly. 

He looked at her face. She was studying his wound without so much as moving - as if it reminded her of something. He rolled his tongue in his mouth.

"Don't know. Guess I just… hit it in the fall."

Her gaze jumped to his, then dropped back down. Lips tightening, she took her index and middle fingers and gently, very gently, touched a spot near his wound.

"I have a scar here," she said. "A big one."

As soon as she mentioned it, he saw it in a flash. A tentacle seizing her leg, embedding its teeth in her flesh. Her agonized scream as someone ripped it out. A horrible little creature wriggling inside, growing, feeding--

He shuddered and shut his eyes. By the time he opened them again, she was staring up at him, hands safely in her lap.

"Uh… yeah." Sniffing, he wiped his forehead. "Yeah, I remember."

"It hurt a lot. More than Papa ever hurt me."

_ Papa? _He glanced at her sharply, the shock of the word bellowing in his ears. When their eyes met, she chickened out and looked down at his leg, worrying the hem of her shirt with her fingers.

Somewhere inside him, a key turned, unlocking a subterranean door. He could hear the heavy _ thunk_, feel it reverberate in his chest, as if it were a real thing.

Before he could think of anything to say, tires pulled up on the gravel outside. El twisted to look at the window.

"They're here." She turned back to him. "It's going to be okay, Billy."

She put a hand on his knee. Her features were open, free of manipulation, like Hopper's had been at the cabin. Nodding slightly, Billy forced himself to keep looking at her, to soak it all in.

Maybe... _maybe_ he could learn to live with this... if he only fucking tried.


End file.
